Slipping Underneath
by cl3mm
Summary: Having survived the sinking and with a new identity, a pregnant Rose Dawson struggles to create a new life for herself in New York while still grieving over the loss of her child's father. (Rewrite of an old story). - Complete
1. One

_April 18, 1912_

Alone. That's the only way Rose could describe how she felt. For the better half of three days, Rose had had no real human interaction. She felt as though she was stuck in a dream, desperate to wake up. They had arrived in New York, she knew that much. And she was told that they were to dock at Pier 54 any minute. It was a bittersweet moment for Rose.

Just days ago she had been Rose Dewitt Bukator, a seemingly delicate and proper young woman who was to become Mrs. Hockley in the next few weeks- married to one of the richest men in the nation; she was a girl who could have anything she wanted, yet she felt so miserable and trapped. That was until she had become Rose Dawson. _Dawson. _Jack Dawson. The man that had saved her life, and at what cost? Rose felt more alone and vulnerable than she ever had before.

Rose was still standing on the deck of the Carpathia, the same place she had been when they passed the Statue of Liberty not too long ago. She didn't realize the aching that had consumed her legs, or the dampness of her hair and of Cal's thick coat.

She had barely even noticed the downpour of rain that was coming from the sky. Everything had been a blur to her the last few days, almost like an out of body experience. Just as she was about to sit, she noticed that the ship had slowed down. They were slowly approaching the Cunard pier.

Rose had no idea where she'd go. She was terrified, yet felt a renewed sense of hope. After all, she was free from the life she had felt so trapped in before. She was free from the grasps of Caledon and her mother. There was no more marriage, no more mindless chatter over tea or pointless conversations with her mother. But then again, there was no more Jack either.

_"When the ship docks, I'm getting off with you."_ As the ship came to port, she couldn't help but think of those words she muttered just days earlier.

Days earlier when there had been hope for a chance at true love and happiness. Days earlier when everything felt so hectic, yet so right. How she wished she could go back to when she boarded the ship; she wanted desperately to have a second chance. How she wanted the memories of the last few days to stop taunting her at every twist and turn.

Slowly. she looked up, seeing the crowd that had amassed at the pier, waiting for a survivor to tell their story for a good price. The thought of talking to someone about the whole ordeal sickened her.

Standing up, Rose fixed Cal's heavy coat that draped lazily over her shoulder, matted down from the recent downpour. She picked up the now damp blanket the crew had given her and draped it over her flattened curls, and tried to ignore the soppiness it brought with it. As she got off the ship, she wanted to conceal her face as best she could.

_"You learn to take life as it comes at you."_ Jack's words rang out in her head. They never were more true than they were in that moment.

...

_July 25, 1912_

Since her arrival in New York, Rose had begun to make a life for herself. She was broken, yet stronger and more confident than ever before. Over the last few months, Rose had gotten herself a job at a local diner, working as a waitress in order to support herself.

She had a few people she liked to mingle with, but her closest friend was a woman named Frances Holmes. They had met days after Rose arrived in New York at the girl's home she stayed in for the initial weeks after the disaster. Frances was a young stewardess that kept the girls' rooms in check, but she and Rose had developed their own relationship outside of Frances' professional one.

Still, no one had known Rose's deepest secrets. She wasn't ready for anyone to know about who she really was just yet.

The apartment Rose was renting was around the corner from the diner she worked at. She felt it was fate that she met Frances when she did, as her father owned the complex where Rose would eventually move into.

It was the perfect size for her liking, small, yet home-like and safe. It was a great spot for the young woman, as she felt she blended into the crowd well enough. To everyone around her, she was just a girl trying to make something out of herself. That was admirable enough to the people she was surrounded by.

She got along well with her neighbors, and her landlord liked the fact that she was much like his own daughter- eager to break the molds of society and support herself. But what everyone didn't know was that Rose didn't have a choice but to be this way, what else _could _she do?

Rose was just returning from a doctors appointment. Ever since she had left the girl's home, she had felt off. At first, she dismissed the feelings, as she had been through things that the majority of people don't go through in their entire lifetime. But everything wasn't okay. She was carrying a child. Rose Dawson, a seventeen year old, unwed girl- carrying a child.

There was no denying the fact that she was devastated, any girl in her situation would be. But part of Rose was joyful and thankful that the legacy of her lost love would get to go on longer than he himself got to. That idea in itself comforted Rose.

But she knew that this pregnancy also meant the end of her secret. Everyone would be curious as to who the father of her child was. What had Rose Dawson been through? Had she been married? Perhaps her husband had died, or left her.

"_Maybe making up another lie isn't the way to go about this." _Rose thought to herself. "_Maybe it's about time the world knows about Jack Dawson."_

That was an idea that Rose didn't know if she truly meant herself. Part of her wanted to keep him secret, almost like a story only she could tell. She knew how silly the prospect of that sounded. It was almost selfish to want to keep him all to herself, but at the same time, she didn't feel ready to open up about him quite yet.

As she slid her key into the knob and pushed the door open, Rose was overcome by a sudden feeling of grief. It wasn't unusual for this to happen, but it always felt so unwelcome and unexpected. Rose set her keys onto the small wood dining room table she had recently purchased, right beside the stack of papers that had been slowly increasing week by week.

Over the course of the last few months, Rose had jotted down every single thing she could remember about Jack. Things he had said to her, things about his life, what they had done together- albeit it wasn't much.

She was so scared she would forget the little things about him. The way his hair smelled of a mixture of the ocean breeze and a pine-like essence, or the way he scrunched his face when he was concentrating on a thought. Rose found herself walking towards the stack, placing her hand on the smooth paper.

"Oh Jack, what have you done to me?" Rose said aloud. "Three days. That's all it took. My every thought is consumed by you. Would you be proud of what I've made of myself?" She knew these feelings wouldn't help her grief, yet she couldn't help but think about them.

Jack always knew what to say and what to do. Rose desperately craved to see him _one _more time. To look into his blue eyes, as bright and full of life as the deep ocean where he lay. To feel his soft, yet rough hands, toughened up from the years of work and drawing they had been through. He was so different than anyone she had ever met before, and she was convinced she would never meet anyone like him again.

Jack was different. He didn't care about her for her money or her looks, and so many men had in the past. He loved her for her. He wanted to protect her and show her that life was worth living. That was all that mattered to Rose.

Those few short months ago, Rose had been so desperate to be saved, and Jack Dawson stepped in at just the right moment. Maybe that's why she just couldn't seem to let him go. Not that she wanted to, anyway. What she truly wanted, she decided for herself, was to be able to think about Jack without being afraid, without feeling lost or trapped. "_That's what grief does to you, huh?"_

Rose hadn't even noticed her face getting hot until a tear fell onto the paper that laid on top of the small pile. She wiped her eyes as she crept onto the small grey armchair that was positioned right beside her bookshelf. Rose had always had an eye for art and decorating, and now that she had an apartment of her own, she could decorate it as she pleased.

"_Rose and I differ some on our definition of fine art." _Cal didn't understand Rose, and that's what he despised most about Jack. Jack understood people. He understood Rose- Cal's Rose, and that was something he couldn't have. Rose always felt that Cal was incapable of love. Maybe it wasn't true, maybe she wasn't capable of the type of love he wanted to give.

Finally letting the exhaustion and plethora of emotions consume her, Rose brought her knees to her chest and cried silently. Where would she go from here? She hadn't felt this hopeless since her time on the Carpathia months ago. She had just realized how alone she really was.

But this was what she had wanted, wasn't it? Rose told of her feelings, how she wished she could be poor but free, not having to be tied down or tamed by anyone or anything. But now that she was living it, did she really want it as much as she thought she did? Closing her eyes for a few moments, Rose was suddenly back on the Titanic.

_She didn't know how long she had been listening to Jack talk for, but she didn't mind. Everything he said amazed her. They had led completely different lives, yet there they were, being able to agree and get along on so many topics. Rose didn't know what it was about Jack that made her want to tell him everything. _

_She felt so comfortable and secure around him. Being with Jack was almost an escape from her own reality, and she was able to be Rose- the real Rose._

"_You know, my dream has always been to just run away and become an artist... living in a garret, poor but free!" The pair had been walking around the boat deck nearly all day long, talking about their dreams and aspirations. Everything felt so right with Jack._

"_You wouldn't last two days. There's no hot water, and hardly ever any caviar." had been Jack's reply. She didn't know whether he was being serious or not, but Rose made a face, unable to hide the fact that she was offended._

"_I happen to hate caviar! And I hate people telling me what dreams I should and shouldn't have." Throughout her whole life, everything Rose had wanted had been dismissed with the snap of a finger. No one cared what she wanted. She was just a high class woman… What did her thoughts matter?_

_Jack looked at her for a moment, seeing the hurt in her eyes. "I'm sorry... You're right." Those words comforted the young girl. An apology wasn't something Rose had come across so easily in her life. Not only that, but he had agreed and she was right- something that Cal would surely never admit. _

_She smiled at Jack, once again amazed by how perfect he seemed, but realizing that no matter what she may have wanted, she could never have him._

Suddenly, Rose snapped out of her fake reality, opening her eyes. She had been dreaming. How she wished she had been back at that moment. Maybe she could have changed things. Dismissing her thoughts, she stood up, her body feeling sore from sleeping in an uncomfortable position. Walking to her window, she peered out, realizing it was now dark out.

Rose retreated to her bedroom to change into her pajamas. Just as she was about to slip into her silky nightgown, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her curly red locks were in need of a trim, and her face looked more sunken and tired than usual.

She placed a hand on her stomach, still not quite believing there was a person in there. She always figured that if she were to become pregnant, she would know within the first few weeks. But here she was, over three months along and just figuring it out.

"_Now that I know you're in there, I can faintly see a small bump." _She felt a small tug on her lips. She was growing a life within herself. She couldn't help but think of Jack. Would he be happy about raising a child? Did he ever want to have children? All simple questions that she would never be able to ask.

Slipping into her pajamas, Rose turned out her light and crawled into her bed. She curled up under the covers, running her fingers across the small quilt she was tucked under. Thoughts of her future traced her mind again.

Over the last three months, Rose had become a completely different girl. She didn't need to depend on anyone to care for her anymore, she was capable of creating a life for herself. Whether she was ready for it or not, she was being thrown into another new adventure.

"_It was everything. It was my whole world and all the people in it. And the inertia of my life, plunging ahead and me- powerless to stop it." _

Part of her wished she could see that old version of herself and tell her how wrong she was. She wasn't powerless to stop it, just afraid of what would happen if she tried.

Rose closed her eyes, desperate to see Jack again as she slept.

**(A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of my "new" story. :) I wrote this years back in middle school, and recently found it while going through some old documents. I'm not too fond of my old writing style or story pacing, but I decided to fix this thing up nonetheless).**


	2. Two

_August 12, 1912_

Rose was just about to end her shift at the diner and meet Frances back at her apartment. She had decided that today was going to be the day that she told someone she was expecting. There was no denying the fact that she was starting to show. Luckily, the apron she wore over the lower half of her waitress dress hid her stomach for the most part.

She was almost four months along by now, though she definitely didn't look to be that way, which she was grateful for. She was terrified of what those around her would think. Having children this young wasn't unheard of by any means, but those women were usually married. What would society think of her? Rose wasn't sure why the thoughts of others mattered to her so much. Maybe it was the way she was raised, always needing the praise and approval of those around her.

Since she found out, Rose had come to like the idea of becoming a mother more and more. At first she was ashamed to admit that she was petrified. After all she had been through with her own mother, she didn't feel as though she would want a child. When she was younger she had always wanted children. But being with Cal had dimmed those desires. She could never imagine wanting to have children with a man she was so unattracted to and repulsed by. But this child wasn't Cal's, it was Jack's. Jack Dawson. What would his child be like, she often wondered.

Not only did the prospect of having this child make her wonder about its future, but her own as well. Would she ever have more children? She would need to have a partner first, and get married. That was something that Rose wasn't sure she ever wanted to do. The idea of being with someone that wasn't Jack seemed so wrong to her. He was gone, yet Rose still felt so helplessly bound to him.

Their love had been short, but she felt it was true. Growing up a girl of high society, Rose had never thought love could feel the way it did with Jack. With Cal, love was bland, basically nonexistent. She had been in love with Jack, and no matter how much time had passed, she couldn't stop loving him.

"I'm heading out, Clyde!" Rose called into the kitchen as she was walking out. Clyde was her boss and the owner of the diner. He was a man in his late fifties who had a small amount of grey hair and a moustache to match. He was rather small for a male, with a thin body and a bad smoking habit. Rose always thought he was quite the character, having been married and divorced four times with two estranged children of his own, virtually unheard of to Rose. But everyone in the diner knew how deeply he cared about all of his employees. He had a particular liking for Rose, though. Clyde knew of her situation, at least that she was young and alone. He could tell that she was in need, and he tried as best he could to support her.

"See you later Rosie. Have a wonderful evening!" she heard his raspy voice call back. Rose didn't reply, but headed out the door, hearing the little bell chime on her way out.

The walk back to her apartment was short, but Rose always enjoyed it. She liked to get fresh air and breathe in the aroma of the nature around her. There wasn't much to be seen in the small town, so that left a lot of room for trees and flowers.

Before she could unlock her front door, a neighbor called out to Rose. Turning around on her heels, she waved to the neighbor that lived across from her. Katherine, or Kathy as she liked to be called. She was a sweet older lady, having recently moved in after the loss of her husband, and inevitably her money. Rose felt lots of sympathy for the woman, but Kathy seemed to be holding up fairly well, though Rose knew all too well the curtain of emotion that one could hide behind.

The whole situation with Jack made Rose feel jealousy towards people like Kathy. Rose had been just as in love with her partner as Kathy had been with hers, at least that's what she thought. Kathy got to spend fifty years with the love of her life, raise their children together, grow old together. Rose had got three days, seventy-two hours. And now she was left alone to raise their child. Though the young girl felt wrong for thinking it, she thought how unfair the whole situation was to her.

"Would you mind helping me out, dear? I need some help carrying groceries."

Rose smiled, walking over to the older woman, "I'd be glad to help."

As Rose helped carry the few bags of groceries in, she noticed the items that Kathy had bought. Lots of spices and herbs. The smell of it all made Rose feel light-headed. "_This is rather strange…" _Rose thought to herself "_This has never happened to me before." _She thought that it had to be the doing of her baby.

Rose never knew too much about the realities of being pregnant. All she had learned was that she was to make her husband a father to as many children as possible, to ensure that his family name would continue on. She then thought back to her mother that she left all alone. Her mother had no son, no husband. The DeWitt Bukater name would not be passed on. For some reason Rose couldn't quite understand, this bothered her ever so slightly.

"Where should I set these down, Kathy?"

...

Rose had about fifteen minutes before she was expecting Frances to arrive. She was just finishing making her potato soup, with some celery and carrots thrown in the mix. It was an inexpensive meal that Rose rather enjoyed, so she didn't mind making it so often. She wiped her hands and realized she had never changed out of her work uniform.

Now in her bedroom, Rose looked through the small amount of clothes she had acquired until she pulled out a brown skirt that dropped down to her ankles, with a white and flowy long sleeved shirt that she tucked into it. She went to hang up her uniform in the closet after she changed, but something caught her eye. One of her coats that was usually hung up in the back had fallen over.

"Great." Rose muttered to herself "Of course it's one in the back." Struggling to reach over, she was eventually able to grab the coat off the floor. As Rose pulled it closer to herself, she noticed the material was rather rough, nothing like something she'd normally wear. As the garment was pulled out of the closet, she realized that it was in fact Cal's coat.

"_Oh look at you, you look a fright!" Cal said as he slipped the blanket the kind Irish couple had given her off of Rose's shoulders. He shoved the blanket into Jack's arms, making him step back slightly. "Here," Cal took off his second blazer, placing it over where the blanket had just been._

Not really sure why she was doing it, Rose slid her hand into the pocket. Then she felt it, the cold diamond. "_It's still there" _she thought to herself. "Not like it could have gone anywhere." she whispered aloud this time. She admired the carvings of the heart, what it must have taken to create something so sturdy and strong.

The young girl's emotions towards the necklace were quite conflicted. On one hand, it was given to her by a man she didn't care for as a way to try and buy her love or bring the two closer together- at least that's how Rose saw it. But on the other hand, it was because of the necklace that Jack had gotten the chance to draw Rose, a moment she was glad for every day since the loss of her beloved. Though she would never get to see the drawing again, she had the necklace as a reminder.

It would feel wrong to sell the necklace. It would almost signify the fact that Cal really had won in the end, that she really did need him for his money. She couldn't bring herself to sell it, no matter how much she needed money, so she kept it tucked away. As far as Cal knew, the cold stone had drowned with Rose DeWitt Bukater.

A knock on the door nearly made her drop the necklace on the floor. She quickly threw the necklace back into the pocket and scrambled to put the coat back into the closet. Rose looked at herself once in the mirror before another knock snapped her back into reality.

"Coming!" she shouted, turning away from her reflection. Rose moved her hands across her skirt, getting the wrinkles out before opening the door. Greeting Frances with a hug, she was invited inside.

Frances was a rather petite girl, standing nearly half a foot shorter than Rose. She had wavy chestnut brown hair that dropped down a little below her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep baby blue, with grey and yellow spurts hidden within them. Frances' skin was darker than Rose's, but not by much, and she had freckles that lined her face from right beneath her eyes down to her plump pink lips.

The two women talked over their meals, Frances lost in thought over a man she had recently met at work. "He's got brown hair and eyes, with round glasses and a beautiful smile." she had been gushing over this man for the last five minutes. He was a man that Frances had taken a liking to while working at the girls home. He was a doctor, so he came in often to see girls that were staying there. Rose thought that maybe she had even seen him herself one time or another during her stay there.

While her friend continued to talk on and on, Rose's mind wandered off. Part of her felt bad, but she had so much on her mind. All this talk of someone Frances was so sure she loved made her think of Jack. If they had both survived, would she be talking to Frances in the same manner, describing all his beautiful features and qualities? No, she finally decided. She and Frances most likely would never have met if Jack were here. It was an interesting thought. Her life would be on a completely different path if it hadn't been for that one night.

Oh, how she wished Jack were with her right now. Arm around her shoulder, listening to the same conversation that Rose was distancing herself from. Jack would be listening, Rose thought. He was always so intrigued about what those around him had to say. He always knew what-

"Rose?" It was Frances again. She had been daydreaming too long. "Rose, are you even listening to me?"

Rose felt her cheeks get warm, "I'm sorry, I was daydreaming. Back to your new found love. What was his name again, William Calvert?"

"Are you feeling all right, Rose?" Frances asked. Rose didn't know why, but this question took her by surprise. Was it that obvious that she had something to hide? Before she could even respond, Frances continued on. "You've been acting strange the last few weeks. More so than usual, I mean. I usually try to ignore your habit of daydreaming or looking gloomy, but it's been more apparent and unusual as of late."

Rose could tell the look on her face gave away the fact that she was hiding something. It was all too obvious. All these emotions suddenly consumed her. She didn't know the last time someone had asked her if she was okay. She wasn't. She missed Jack, she longed to be held again, to be kissed, to feel safe and secure. She longed for her baby to know who its father was, to be raised by both of its loving parents, something she never got to experience herself.

Why did it have to be her? She wanted to live a life that was different from the one she was trapped in, but this is not what she had in mind. She felt lost, trapped- with nowhere to turn and no one to turn to. She was afraid that the old Rose was coming back. The same Rose that had boarded the Titanic just a few short months ago.

"_I felt like I was standing a great precipice, with no one to pull me back. No one who cared- or even noticed." _

She couldn't let herself move back into that direction. This time, there would be no Jack Dawson to pull her away. To pull her back to reality. But she had Frances; a friend, a real friend. One who she knew she could count on.

"Frances." Rose said, finally. "I'm pregnant."


	3. Three

_August 17, 1912_

It had been five days since Rose's secret had been spilled. The previous day, Friday, was when everyone at the diner was made aware of her situation. They were all shocked, which was to be expected. Rose had never mentioned a man to anyone before, so everyone was curious as to who the father of her child was. When this question was asked, anyone could see the hurt and pain in her eyes. Everyone was wondering the same things, but no one wanted to be the one to ask.

Earlier in the week at dinner, Rose had refused to tell Frances who the father of her unborn child was, which made her feel rather offended. The two girls had only spoken once since then, which made Rose feel more hurt than she did before.

Rose thought back to the afternoon before. "I think it'll be a girl." one of the other waitresses, Ellen, said. "I just love babies." Seeing Ellen's eyes light up with joy when she spoke those words made Rose smile. People were there to support her after all.

"No way, definitely a boy. You should name him Clyde, too." it was an easy guess as to who said this. Rose smirked, dismissing his words. She didn't understand why Frances, her closest friend, couldn't accept her like her coworkers had.

Only then did Rose realize that she had drifted off again, not even paying attention to her book anymore. She set it down, sighing. "_Who will you be?" _she thought to herself. She looked down at her swollen stomach. It seemed that over the last few days it had increased drastically in size. She was starting to feel huge, even if the bump was still rather small.

She hoped that her child would be like its father, strong minded and determined. Maybe they would have his artistic ability, with an eye to see people for who they really were. It wasn't a selfish thought to hope her child wasn't like her, was it? Not that she wouldn't love her child all the same regardless, but it would be like Jack were still there, and part of him would continue to live on. And besides, she thought, she didn't think she'd be able to handle raising a version of herself.

"Maybe I should get out for a bit." Rose whispered aloud to herself. She had been cooped up inside nearly all day every day, with the exception of going to work five days a week. She wasn't all that sure as to why she didn't like to go out anymore. She just felt more comfortable at home, more safe and secure. Or maybe it was just the fact that she didn't have anyone to be with. Rose was a social girl. She had grown up having a very social life. Whether she gave off the impression of it or not, she liked the company of others. Not just anyone, of course.

She was somewhat ashamed to admit that she ever so slightly missed the gossip of the first class ladies. They always had the fresh information, something new to say at all times. She remembered being on the Titanic, telling Jack about all the latest gossip in her world. Their worlds were so different from each other's.

Jack didn't mind that, though. He could listen to Rose talk for hours, and that was something she missed most about him. With anyone else in her social group, it was rude and uncouth to speak so much for a high class lady. The thing that Rose hated most about her former life was how she never had a voice, how she always had to keep her speech so prim and proper. With Jack, she had found the voice she always so deeply longed for.

Before she could try and stop herself, Rose was walking out of her apartment, heading over to her manager's apartment. A few moments after she knocked, Mr. Holmes opened the door. Robert Holmes stood on the other side, holding a newspaper. He looked somewhat surprised to see the young woman standing on the other side of the door.

Robert was a plump man, a few inches taller than Rose. He had a bald head and blue eyes that reminded Rose much of Frances'. "Hello there, young Rose. What brings you here this fine Saturday afternoon? Are you off work today?"

Rose smiled, "Yes, I am. I was just wondering if you knew where Frances was off to today? I figured I'd ask you before heading all the way across town to her house."

Robert told her that his daughter had plans to go to have lunch at the city park that afternoon with a young man. She figured the man must be William Calvert, the man Frances was talking about the previous night. Rose didn't feel like it would be proper to disrupt their day together, but she needed to apologize to her friend before things got worse. And perhaps she could make a new friend at the same time.

After nearly twenty minutes of walking, Rose arrived at the park. There were lots of people there, as to be expected for a nice Saturday afternoon. Rose looked around for Frances, eventually spotting her and a man seated in the grass. Her friend was laughing at something. The sight of her friend looking so happy made her heart sink. Was it jealousy? She wasn't sure. But what Rose was sure of was that her friend looked in love. Maybe that's why she felt the way she did. Perhaps she was jealous, once again missing the way that her Jack had made her laugh.

Hearing Rose laugh was rare now-a-days. Over the course of the last few months, she had felt too pained and sorrowed to let any joy or laughter into her life. She thought of Jack's smile, the way he told her things that were unlike things anyone would normally say to her. He always had a way with words, always a way to make her chuckle when she felt down.

Rose walked up to the pair, Frances noticing her before she made it all the way over to them. She looked up at her, giving a small smile that Rose knew wasn't genuine. "Good afternoon, Rose."

"Sorry to interrupt you two." Rose said as the two stood up so they were all eye level with each other.

"That's quite all right." the man said, holding his hand out towards Rose, "Nice to meet you. William Calvert." William looked to be older than the two women, maybe in his early thirties. Frances had described him well the other night, Rose thought. Every little thing Frances had told her had been accurate.

"Rose Dawson," she said, shaking his hand. She realized she didn't say that out loud all too often. _Dawson. _

"Oh, so you're the infamous Rose? Frances has told me so much about you. Your name seems fitting." Calvert said, obviously referring to her red hair.

Rose smiled, flattered that her friend talked about her often enough for Calvert to remember her name. "All good things I hope." Rose said, laughing.

"Would you like to join us? Of course, if that's all right with you?" He asked, turning to Frances, who just nodded in response.

The three talked for a bit until William had to head out, leaving just Frances and Rose alone. She liked his company. He was a rather proper, yet humble and amusing man. She could tell that he was strong willed and wanted to succeed in life. After all, he had already become a doctor, and that was hard enough. But in the short time they had spent together, he had confided in Rose that he wanted to pursue his career even further, and she admired that. She thought that Frances and Calvert would make a lovely couple, though she decided to keep this thought to herself for the time being.

"He seems really nice." Rose said moments after he left. She had to fill the rising tension between them somehow.

Frances didn't respond for a moment, "Why did you come and see me today? How did you even know I was going to be here?"

"I went to your father to ask where you'd be. I just felt the need to apologize for my actions the other night, I shouldn't have-" Rose was cut off.

"No, I shouldn't have acted the way I did. It wasn't right for me to try and make you say anything you weren't comfortable telling me. I just felt hurt by it all. I thought that you were my closest friend, Rose."

Rose wasn't really sure how to respond. "There's a lot you don't know about me. And not just you… anyone." she looked down, not wanting to meet her eyes with those of her dearest friend.

"And why's that? Can't you trust me?"

Rose wasn't really sure how to respond at first. Frances had a point. Why not? It had been months since the tragedy had unfolded in Rose's life, yet she was so unwilling to speak about it. No one even knew that she had boarded the Titanic, much less met Jack. She wasn't really sure herself why she didn't want to share this information. Perhaps it was because she was Rose Dawson, a regular girl leading a regular life. Miss Dawson didn't carry all the baggage that her former self did- she didn't want anyone to know the girl that had died in the Atlantic Ocean that cold April night, at least not yet.

"I suppose there's just a few things about me I don't feel right about saying out loud. But I promise I'll tell you one day. On my own time, when I'm ready." She paused for a moment, "Of course I can trust you, Frances. I've just been through so much… horrible things."

Rose could feel the tears starting to well up in her eyes, she couldn't help it. She desperately needed someone to talk to, but she didn't know how. She was afraid to let anyone in again.

Frances had never seen Rose this broken. Even when she confided in her about being pregnant, she remained more calm and composed than she had expected. It was then that Frances knew that something had happened to Rose, something that she couldn't have ever imagined. She was more confused than ever. What had this young girl been through before she met her? She had never even mentioned a partner before, yet she was carrying a child. Part of Frances feared the worst.

Frances wanted answers, but didn't want to push her. She put herself in Rose's shoes, at least as best as she could. The girl was five years younger than herself, and already expecting a child. She had no family, and barely any money. She felt deep sorrow for the girl, and so desperately wanted to help her friend and understand why she felt the way she did.

Not knowing exactly what to say, Frances pulled the much taller girl into her arms. In that moment, Rose felt so small, much like the stars in the sky. Thinking of the stars brought her back to that special moment her and Jack shared on the first class deck the night that they had dinner together and danced like no one could see them, down below in third class.

"_There's been a mistake. You're not one of them. You got mailed to the wrong address." Rose laughed at Jack, still gazing up at the stars, "I did, didn't I..." It was then that Rose realized with absolute certainty that whether she wanted to or not, she loved Jack._

Rose embraced her friend back, a slight awkwardness between them, since their sitting position was rather uncomfortable, and Rose's ever increasing bump was getting in their way. But despite all this, Rose felt safe, safer than she had in a long time. She knew that she could trust Frances. She needed to open up to her, she just had to let her in. That idea was easier said than done. But for the meantime, Rose just thought that it felt nice to be held again. Feeling the warmth of another person helped her realize that she was in fact alive, something she felt she often forgot.

"I'll always be here for you, Rose." Frances whispered to her friend as they hugged each other under the warm summer sun.


	4. Four

_September 10, 1912_

To anyone else, September 10th was just a regular Tuesday, but not for Rose.

She had woken up early in the morning and got ready for work, as it was a Tuesday. As she prepared to head out for her shift, though, she had felt something was off. At first, she dismissed these feelings. Since the previous month, Rose had started to become more and more uncomfortable in her body as her stomach continued to grow. There was always something new and unexpected going on, so she assumed this was no different.

Work was going as usual for the most part. It was usually the same routine- take an order, bring out an order, collect a tip, accept the occasional "Congratulations" from customers.

Something that work taught Rose was that routine was something that helped keep her mind occupied. When she was alone for too long, thoughts began to spill. The one place she couldn't escape these thoughts was her dreams. Nightmares were common for the young girl, but that didn't mean it was any less horrifying to experience waking up in the middle of the night sweating at least once a week.

The worst dream to date had been just a few nights ago. As she slept, Rose found herself back in that frigid North Atlantic water, resting on top of the wood carving that would save her life. Her body was aching and numb, and it was like her body had left her, and only her mind was awake. Her mind was still occupied with the screams of those who desperately wanted to be saved, haunted her every minute as she waited for death to take her too. Suddenly, she found watching a lifeboat row by. She didn't want to leave Jack out there by himself. She didn't want to admit the fact that he was gone- and even if she wanted to, she couldn't. Her hand was frozen to his, and she was too weak to break the grasp.

All Rose could do was watch the boat continue on its path, her vision and hearing becoming more and more distant, just like the boat that was too far out in the distance for her to see it. The last thing she remembered seeing before everything went black was Jack's face. She had failed him. His dying wish had been for her to live, and she had failed him.

Opening her eyes, Rose remembered why today seemed so important to her. It was Jack's birthday. Today Jack Dawson would have been turning twenty-one. Rose felt a wave of guilt wash over her. How could she have forgotten his birthday? She thought back to their time on the decks of the Titanic. Jack was discussing his family situation. He told her that he had met his friend and traveling partner, Fabrizio De Rossi, on his twentieth birthday- September 10th, during a game of Poker. Jack was always traveling around, trying to earn money and gain new experiences; he had been doing this very thing on the Titanic.

Seemingly just as quick as it begun, Rose's shift at the diner was over. Instead of going home, she decided it was better to do something with the rest of her evening. She knew that if she went home, she would do nothing but sulk alone in her bedroom, crying and feeling sorry for herself.

That isn't what Jack would want, she told herself. That's not how he'd want her to celebrate his birthday.

"_I figure life's a gift and I don't intend on wasting it." _Rose tried to live by the words of Jack. The two were so different, he always found a way to celebrate every moment, which was something Rose often struggled with.

Still in uniform, Rose walked around town. She didn't really know where she was going, but she thought that at least walking felt nice. Feeling the hot summer air slowly turning cooler as Autumn grew closer made her feel calm. It felt kind of odd though, being alone was something that usually made the young woman feel nervous, yet she felt oddly comfortable tonight.

She liked to think that maybe Jack was with her in this moment, enjoying his birthday with her. Rose was never a religious girl, but this idea gave her comfort. For the first time since he had died, she was thinking about Jack in a happier sense. Jack was a carefree spirit, always enjoying life with what he had. Rose knew she had to be more like that, she just didn't know how.

"Hey!" a deeper voice called from behind the unsuspecting girl, making her jump slightly. Rose turned around to see William Calvert catching up to her, hand in hand with a smaller girl.

Smiling, Rose waited for the pair to catch up to her. "Good evening, Mr. Calvert."

"William is fine." he said to her. "This is my daughter, Mabel."

Rose was slightly shocked, though she tried not to show it on her face. She didn't know he had a daughter. Frances had never mentioned a little girl to her before. The two had been seeing each other for a few weeks at this point. For now, Rose just decided to dismiss it.

Looking down at the smaller girl, Rose smiled, holding out her hand. "Mabel is a beautiful name, I'm Rose."

The little girl shook her hand, having a surprisingly strong grip for someone her size. Mabel had the same brown eyes as her father, and her dark blonde hair was pulled into pigtails that rested on her shoulders. Her cheeks were rather chubby and rosy. She was wearing a plaid dress that went down to just below her knee, with stockings and nice boots to match. Rose could tell based off her attire that her parents were rather well off.

Mabel held up four fingers, stating that that's how old she was. The little girl brought a smile to Rose's face.

William began to speak, making Rose's attention turn back to him. "Mabel and I were just about to head to a cinema. Would you care to join us?"

She could again hear Jack's voice in her head as he said this. "_You learn to take life as it comes at you."_

If this wasn't a sign that Jack was with her, she didn't know what was. Smiling, Rose took William up on his offer, and they headed out on their way.

Rose had been to a handful of movies in her life. She remembered when the first cinema opened in 1905. Throughout the years, her father took her to see multiple movies. He always tried to bond with his daughter; to get to know her better, to try and win over her love. That reminded her of Cal. It never worked.

Rose never really thought of her father anymore. He had died only a few years back, but she never remembered a time where she really grieved over him. She had only cried over him when she initially found out. Her father had never been around for her or important moments in her life.

The death of her father had made her mother a much more bitter and money hungry woman. After he died, she became increasingly worried about the debts of Henry DeWitt Bukater drowning her family and taking away all of their valuables. That was the main reason she was so eager to pawn off her daughter like a token to Cal Hockley.

After a short walk, the trio arrived at the cinema. Throughout the whole experience, Rose realized that her love for the acting scene had really never gone away. She remembered her conversation with Jack, how she told him she would love to be a moving picture actress one day.

Could this be a reality for her? She loved seeing the way the film rolled, how every shot showed emotion and flowed perfectly into the next. She imagined herself on the screen, acting out every little scene. What would it be like to one day see her red locks become black and white as she danced along to music- people watching her on the screen.

As the movie ended, she tucked away her desires once again, saving them for another time. Rose knew how improbable the idea of her becoming an actress was, at least for the time being. Her life was just beginning here in New York. She just decided to lay low for a few years while she worked to earn money for her small family.

The trio was now walking outside, preparing to go their separate ways. The sun was now setting, leaving an orange-y pink glow. Rose couldn't help but admire it. "_What a beautiful sunset to mark the remembrance of a beautiful life." _she thought to herself.

"Well, looks like I should be heading home before it gets dark." Rose said, turning to face the father-daughter pair. Mabel was looking tired by now, having gleamed up at the movie for so long. Rose was rather impressed by the small child's attention span. But then again, how could one not marvel at the beautiful film unrolling before their eyes?

"Please, let us walk you home. It's the kind thing to do."

Rose was going to try to protest, but she knew it would have no use. Instead, she thanked him and they headed in the direction of her apartment.

...

Once Rose was alone again, she changed into her pajamas and decided to settle down. As she made herself a small meal, she thought of Jack. If he were here right now, she imagined herself making him his favorite meal. What was his favorite food, she wondered to herself.

There were so many simple questions that Rose would never get to ask her lover. He didn't seem to be much of a picky eater, but then again the pair had only shared one meal together. But based on his character and the lack of food he was often subjected to, Rose was certain that he would enjoy anything she made for him.

Imagining what could have been used to deeply hurt Rose. It was like pouring salt on an already open wound. Thinking about all the things they could have done together made her feel bitter. She often wondered why it had to be her, surviving all alone. After spending her whole life being what other people wanted her to be, she had begun to make decisions for herself, but that was all taken away from her so quickly.

But as the months passed, thinking about what the pair could have done together helped Rose grieve. She knew that one day she would accomplish all the things that her and Jack had wanted to do together. Except she wouldn't have to do it alone. She would have their child with her, part of Jack that carried on.

Now thinking of their child, she was certain it would have a sense for adventure. After all, both of its parents loved the idea of traveling and exploring new areas. They could see the world together, just as she had planned to with Jack.

"_And we'll ride horses on the beach. Right in the surf." Jack paused for a moment, thinking. "But you'll have to ride like a real cowboy. None of that side-sattle stuff."_

_Rose looked at him, perplexed by the idea of it. "You mean… one leg on each side?" He nodded. "Could you show me?"_

_Jack smiled at her, his deep blue eyes looking into hers, "Sure, if you'd like."_

_Could the two really be making plans with each other? Rose was engaged to be married! Yet there she stood, making accommodations with a steerage boy. But to her, he was much more than that title that showed nothing more than status. Everything felt so sure and right with Jack. One way or another, she knew that the two would remain friends after the Titanic docked- she had to make that certain._

After dinner, Rose sat alone at her table, thinking to herself. She lit a candle for Jack- it was the only way she could think to celebrate without him. Though she thought she had done a pretty good job by going out and seeing a movie with people she didn't know all too well.

Thinking of an idea, Rose went to find a clean slate of paper and a writing utensil, before sitting back down where she had been before.

"_Jack,"_ Rose had begun to write on a paper, preparing to add it to her stack. "_I can never seem to get you out of my mind. I know you won;t ever read this, but I'd like to thank you for all that you've done for me. You helped me find who I really am, and I continue to learn from you every day. You showed me that I don't have to follow orders from everyone, that I have my own voice. I wouldn't be able to recognize that girl I was when I boarded the Titanic this Spring. Without you I'd be Rose Hockley, living an average high class life, unhappy and struggling to go on every day knowing the next day would be the same..."_

She paused for a moment. How odd would it have been to be Rose Hockley? Though Rose knew at the time of her engagement it would eventually occur, she never liked to think about it much. She knew the prospect of marriage didn't bother Cal. He'd likely be engaged again in the next few years to a different woman.

Dismissing the thought, she continued. "_Now, I'm Rose Dawson. A girl who's able to have a job and rent out her own apartment, doing things most girls can't even imagine at my age. I no longer have to sit back and know what the next day will hold, because every day is a new adventure…"_

By now, Rose was crying. But they weren't tears of sadness. Oddly enough, she felt a sense of happiness and comfort writing to Jack. It made her feel like she had when he was alive. He was so easy to talk to and spill all her feelings out to. Though this wasn't the same, it was similar enough.

"_I miss you more than anyone could imagine, yet I'm beyond grateful for the days we got to spend together, because they were more real and mind opening than anything I'll ever experience. How I wish I could see you one more time… touch you just once more..." _Finally finishing, she added "_Happy twenty-first birthday, Jack. Yours forever and always, Rose Dawson."_

She neatly folded the letter and slipped it in an envelope. She decided that she wouldn't read the letter again. It wasn't meant for her eyes. And though she knew the recipient would never get to read it, she knew she had to keep it sealed away.

Rose blew out the candle that had been lighting the small area around her. Before she placed the letter on top of the pile, she put a kiss on top of the envelope, a slight red stain becoming apparent on it.

"Happy birthday, Jack."


	5. Five

_October 15, 1912_

For the last few days, Rose had been afraid of this date that was rapidly approaching. The prospect of it somewhat confused her. She had been through nearly half a dozen other '15th's of the month' since April. But this one felt different somehow.

"It's been six months, Jack." Rose said, grazing the stack of papers that hadn't had a new addition in longer than she wanted to admit. She desperately wanted to read through the pages, savoring every word they held within them. But she didn't, no matter how badly she wanted to. She was afraid that if she read the papers too often, they would become boring or unexciting. Not that she thought those things were true about Jack, but it was an irrational fear the girl had. Like reading a book, is what she had told herself, if you let yourself fall into that reality too often, you know what comes next- you feel bored, you crave more.

But there was no more. There would never be any more. The man that she loved was gone, and it had been six months. Rose didn't try and stop the first tear from escaping from within her. She needed to cry, she knew that. Too often did she hold her emotions back from not only others, but herself as well.

Just the month before, she remembered how happy she felt on his birthday. She celebrated in her own little ways, thinking of him in a happier manner. She wasn't quite sure what had changed since then. Maybe she just missed him more than usual today. Maybe the date just brought back memories she wished she could suppress within her mind for the rest of eternity.

"_I'm not strong." _Rose thought to herself, her hand continuing to touch the small stack. Tears kept flowing down her pale cheeks, but she didn't bother to wipe them.

Maybe it hadn't only been Jack that was bothering her. Sure, she was still beyond devastated over his death, but he wasn't the only thing she had lost in the depths of that great, cold ocean. She had lost her mother and Caledon as well. This didn't bother her, but it made her feel an unusual sort of way. When she lost them, she lost Rose DeWitt Bukater. That version of herself was as good as dead, especially in the public eye. She had remembered reading about her own death in the paper not long after her arrival in New York.

Reading about your own death was a terrifying thing. Rose vividly remembered how petrified she felt when the news broke that little miss Rose DeWitt Bukater had died. She saw the picture of herself that they had chosen. It was one that was taken nearly two years prior. She was wearing an elegant dress, hair pinned up high, face beautiful yet unsmiling. "_It's not in color. Maybe no one will think anything of it. And I look different now, don't I?" _Is what she had thought to herself.

She had been right about that. No one thought twice about the fact that her and Rose Dawson could be one in the same. Rose Dawson was outspoken about what she wanted and didn't let anyone get in the way of her doing what she wanted. That was nothing like Rose DeWitt Bukater, the fragile, little rich girl from Philadelphia. That's not who she was anymore.

Lighting a candle, Rose closed her eyes. She wished she could see Jack's face as clearly as she had been able to shortly after the disaster. She was afraid that she would forget. Sure, she had the papers to help her remember things, but she didn't have a photograph of him. Of course she could think of his features on a base level, but the hard part was trying to piece them all together in her mind. For whatever reason, it had become increasingly difficult to remember.

Rose couldn't contain herself any longer. She flipped past the make-shift cover she created, and looked at the first page. The first thing she had done when she decided to write down everything was to make a letter to Jack, not that he'd ever be able to read it. But it was not long after everything took place, and she felt she needed to let her emotions out somehow.

This was similar to what she had done the night of his birthday. Pouring out her emotions was rather therapeutic for the girl.

She didn't want to read it, at least not now. She remembered how pained she had felt writing that letter, and she didn't want to go back to those thoughts. The pain she expressed in her writing was strong. She liked to think that she was stronger now than she had been during that time. "_Maybe not stronger, just better at hiding your emotions." _

She flipped to the next page, which was a list of Jack's features and things she noticed about him. She read each one carefully, closing her eyes after each description, relishing every last detail. Rose remembered the way his hands delicately moved as he drew her, and the way he so softly and tenderly held her close to him.

The way he held her was something she deeply missed. She thought back to the way Cal felt when he touched her- his hands rough and uncaring. Rose was always worried that he would sense how uncomfortable she felt when he touched her. Would he even care about her feelings if he had known?

Flipping to the next page, Rose found the memorable things he had said to her. It was hard trying to remember every quote word for word, but she tried her hardest to get them as accurate as possible. Jack had said so many things that inspired her, and she wanted to keep those words with her.

She didn't want to read that page, though. Something about it made her heart sink. Thinking about the words he'd use to sooth or inspire her made her feel at a loss. The morning had already been hard enough for her as it was, and she knew she had to go to work in a few hours.

Rose stood up, her back starting to ache. Even sitting for a few minutes at a time often made her muscles ache. She rubbed her swollen stomach, now getting big enough to where seeing her toes was becoming more difficult. There was still much more growing to do, though she didn't see how that was possible. She wondered how many women did this multiple times.

Neatly stacking the papers and tucking them away again, Rose got ready for work.

Her usual uniform didn't fit her anymore, much to her dismay. She had been given a new dress in a much larger size, that Clyde said she'd "grow into" as the weeks increased.

Rose went to work without incident. She was glad that this day happened to fall on a Tuesday. This was a rather busy day for the diner, so there was plenty of time to keep her mind from wandering off too much. She could save her thoughts for the evening.

Since she had gotten the job in April, Rose had grown closer to the people at her work. She liked to think of them as a little family. She knew she could count on them if things were looking bad. But despite this, it was still difficult for her to outright say she needed help.

Thinking back to that summer day with Frances always gave her hope. She had been so close to admitting that she wasn't okay, and that she didn't know when, if at all, she would be. Part of her knew the reason why she was so unwilling to open up, she just didn't want to admit it.

Ever since the sinking, Rose was afraid of losing more people. It had seemed so easy to open up to Jack. He had been honest with her, telling him all about his life and the things he had done. She had done the same, telling him things that no girl in her social circle ever confided about, especially not to a boy like Jack.

Rose wasn't really sure what she thought would happen if she tried to open up to someone. She just figured it would be something bad. "_That's just my luck" _is what she had told herself.

There was one close call at work, though. While taking the order of a customer, he had told her that the diner reminded him of one he visited while spending time at Santa Monica. This brought her back to the memory with Jack, where they had discussed going to the pier together, something she'd never be able to do with someone like Cal.

Luckily, she was quickly able to bring herself back into reality and continue taking the order.

As her shift ended, Rose waved goodbye to Clyde, walking out of the door. She was ready to retreat back to her apartment. She needed a break, to be alone and think. It was okay to cry every once in a while, wasn't it? You can't always be strong.

...

Rose found herself sitting alone in her apartment, staring at nothing in particular. Ever since she had gotten home she hadn't felt strong enough to get up. Something was draining her motivation, though she knew what the root of the pain was.

She had been trying to think too much, knowing she needed to let some thoughts flow freely. She thought back to her time on the Carpathia nearly half a year ago.

Truthfully, that whole trip had seemed like a blur. From what she remembered, she was ushered onto the ship, nearly stumbling to the ground on the way in. The sunrise was blinding that morning. Rose felt like the sun was foreign to her at that moment. It felt that she hadn't seen or felt natural light in years- the night before had felt like an eternity.

As she was shuffled through the crowd, she was sure that she had spotted her mother, probably looking for her. She hadn't been sure, since she felt that she was barely conscious. Rose had also remembered seeing Cal, and of course finding his precious money and diamond in the coat he had given her. It perplexed Rose that they hadn't fallen out during the sinking.

One thing that she knew for certain is that she saw the Statue of Liberty on their way into New York. That had been a special moment for Rose. The monument represented freedom that so many in the world did not receive. Rose herself had felt trapped and held captive for most of her life; she knew that going into New York would give her a chance at freedom.

Then she had become Rose Dawson, and her fate was sealed.

Had she done what Jack had hoped? His dying wish was for her to keep living for both of them. Part of her thought she was doing okay, but the other half wasn't too sure. She had to admit that she was doing better than she initially thought she would. If it hadn't been for the stack of twenties stuffed in Cal's coat pocket she wasn't sure where she'd be.

Rose still felt wrong for using that money. It made her feel as though Cal had won in the end, that he had been right. That deep down, she truly couldn't live without him. That's one reason why she had refused to sell the diamond.

Finally moving for the first time in about an hour, Rose laid herself on the loveseat that was next to her armchair. She was now over halfway done with her pregnancy, so getting into a comfortable position proved rather difficult.

After getting herself situated, Rose began to think again. She told herself that tonight needed to be a time to reflect. Maybe it would help her feel better.

Her next thought was not of Jack, but rather the men who he and Fabrizio had won their tickets off of. All Rose knew was that the pair had won their third class tickets during a game of poker- she had learned that much during the dinner that they shared together.

She knew nothing of the men that were supposed to board the doomed ship- or even if they _were_ men. "_No…" _she thought to herself "_women wouldn't do that, and certainly wouldn't purchase tickets for a passenger liner."_

Rose quickly cut off her own thoughts. Why not? Why couldn't women do the things that men did? She thought how much she sounded like her mother. She remembered a time where her mother once told her that women don't live on their own, work, or do anything for themselves- or at least not women like them. But yet, there Rose was, doing all of the things her mother said she'd never get the chance to.

Before her thoughts could go any deeper, a knock was heard from the Rose's front door. Confused, she got up quietly and walked to the door. On the other side stood Frances, holding a bouquet of flowers.

Smiling, she hugged Rose and let herself in.

"You seem rather chipper this evening." Rose said, trying to hide the scratchiness in her voice. Her throat felt tense, like she was on the edge of tears.

"Oh, I'm ecstatic." Frances twirled, setting the flowers on the table. "William is just wonderful, Mabel as well."

"_That's right… They were going out for dinner tonight."_ Frances had told this to Rose weeks ago, but she had forgotten. Since the couple had been together for quite some time, Calvert thought it was time for her to meet Mabel, so the little girl had tagged along with them.

After Rose had been to the cinema with the father and daughter the previous month, she had learned a little more about William's past. He had been married once, his wife dying while giving birth to Mabel. Frances told her how traumatizing it was for him- since he had been in the room helping deliver his child.

Frances was the first woman that Calvert had seen since his wife died. The pair seemed to be hitting it off quite well. Rose was happy for her friend, but seeing how joyful she was over William made her envious; her craving for Jack became stronger in the presence of the couple.

Rose, realizing she had zoned off again, looked to her confused friend. Rose flashes a smile, saying "That's great. I'm happy you've found someone that makes you feel that way. How did the date go? How was Mabel?"

For about half an hour, Frances talked about Mabel and how she was the cutest thing Frances had ever laid her eyes on. She talked about her charming personality, and how seeing William interact with her made her want to have lots of children with him.

Throughout the whole conversation, Rose was going in and out of her mind. She couldn't stop thinking about what she would have been doing six months in the past. The sun was now starting to set. "_Right about now, I'd just be finished with my examination and headed towards steerage."_

After being brought out of the freezing waters, it was a possibility that Rose could've had frostbite, pneumonia or a number of other illnesses. Lucky for her, she was as healthy as she could be for her circumstances- at least physically.

"Rose, are you feeling alright?" Frances sighed. The woman had grown increasingly worried about her friend. Some days she seemed fine, while other days she didn't want to do anything but lay around and sulk.

"I'm fine, just a little nauseous is all. I haven't eaten much today." Rose felt awful about lying. But she didn't know what else to do. How could she possibly explain all the feelings she was having? Her mind was always plagued by haunting memories that never ceased to torment her day or night.

Standing up, Frances pulled her friend up. "You know what makes me feel better when I'm down?" Rose just shook her head, waiting for the response. "I try on my clothes and make myself feel pretty."

Rose scrunched her face, looking down at her attire. She was still in uniform. She found that she wore that often now. "Frances, nothing in my closet fits me anymore. My stomach has grown quite a lot if you haven't noticed."

"I'm sure we can find something. Come on, it'll be fun. Sometimes the best time to get all dressed up is when you have nothing to get ready for."

...

Rose watched from her bed as Frances dug through her dresser drawers. It had been a long fifteen minutes, and they yet to find anything that would fit over Rose's swollen stomach. The young woman didn't have many clothes, but it was more than she knew she needed realistically.

Frances continued to lay out possible outfit choices, and Rose thought about her old life. She remembered how Trudy used to help her change into four different outfits a day, sometimes taking hours to get ready.

Trudy… Rose often wondered what became of her maid. She tried searching for Trudy Bolt on the survivor list, but to no avail. It pained her to know that she had met the same fate as so many other innocent souls that night.

Over the years that Trudy had worked for the DeWitt Bukater family, she had become more than just a maid to Rose. She thought of the woman as a great friend. The two often talked as Trudy got her ready throughout the day. She truly did miss her.

Not being able to find anything suitable in the dresser, Frances moved on to the closet.

"There's mostly just coats and dresses in there. None of them fit me anymore." Rose told her friend, secretly hoping she'd give up. She was starting to get quite hungry, and truth be told she really just wanted to be alone.

Rose felt awful for the way she had been treating Frances lately. She knew that all she was trying to do was help, but with the pregnancy and her own demons haunting her, Rose didn't know how to accept the help. It wasn't the kind of help she needed, though she tried to appreciate the effort.

"What about this one in the back?" Frances was reaching far into the closet, which made Rose uncomfortable. She was worried she'd stumble upon Cal's coat.

Just as Rose was about to suggest they do something else, Frances pulled out a dress. Rose felt the blood drain from her face. She had completely forgotten about that dress. She hadn't seen it since her first few days in New York.

"This looks awfully fancy. It smells too, like the ocean. When was this washed last?" Frances said, admiring the dress Rose had been wearing the night of the sinking.

**(A/N: I hope y'all are enjoying the story. I'm really unsure about my writing, but I should be able to crank out the rest of my story within the next week, since school is cancelled for the rest of the school year. Stay safe everyone.)**


	6. Six

_October 15, 1912_

Rose stared at the dress in shock. She had tucked it away as soon as she got the apartment, not wanting to get rid of it, but also not wanting to see any longer. She'd done a good job, since she had long since forgotten it had been stuffed back there for the last few months.

She couldn't bear to look at it. That dress brought back so many memories she was desperately trying to shove into the back of her mind. If they were released, she was worried they'd consume her as they once had.

Frances saw the colorless Rose, shock still plastered on her face. She took a longer look at the dress, thinking maybe something must be wrong with it. No, she thought a few seconds later, it looked perfectly fine. It seemed to be much more expensive compared to the rest of the items in her friends closet, with many layers and fine details.

"Rose, what's going on? Are you feeling okay?" Now Frances was thinking something else must be going on. Was something wrong with the baby? Endless possibilities swam through her mind as she waited for her friend to respond.

Only, Rose wasn't responding. Her vision was becoming blurry. A million memories were making their way through her train of thought.

_Jack had just drawn her, and she needed to change quickly, not knowing when someone would show up. It was the first time in a long time she could remember dressing herself. Not wearing a corset felt liberating._

"_It's getting cold." Jack breathed into his hands, trying to warm himself up. He looked Rose up and down, admiring her. "You look nice."_

_Next, she was lowering herself into the cold water that was quickly filling up the hallway of E Deck. With an axe in hand, she submerged most of her lower body into the icy waters, audibly gasping. She struggled to make her way through the water, finally reaching the room where Jack was waiting, trapped. _

_Then suddenly, she was laying on the wood piece in the ocean. "Come Josephine in my flying machine…" Rose was looking up at the stars, singing to try and keep her mind and body awake. She was waiting for the rescue that Jack promised her was coming._

Finally coming to, Rose was now laying down on her bed. She didn't remember laying down. Perhaps this had just been another one of her nightmares.

As she sat up, her hand went to her head that was now screaming out in pain. Frances was quick to her side, handing her a mug of something warm. It hadn't been a dream.

"Drink this. I have soup cooking on the stove. Maybe after you eat we should head to the doctors." Frances sounded panicked.

"No. no. I'm fine." Rose was still confused. Her body felt unsure of itself, and her mind was still foggy. Had she passed out? One moment she was in her memories, and now she was here.

Looking around, she spotted the dress draped on the corner of her bed. She didn't want to look at it. As she turned her head away from it, Frances noticed her gaze change.

"What is up with you and that dress?"

Rose thought that she could possibly make up another lie to cover up her story. She could say that the scent of sea water made her feel sick. No, she thought, that doesn't sound believable.

"I…" she was desperately trying to find a way out of the conversation, "I just need to eat." The look on Frances' face told her that she didn't believe what she was saying.

Sighing, Frances got up. "After you eat, you better explain to me what's going on. I'm worried about you." The look in her eyes was soft, yet concerned. And with that thought, she left the room to go check on the meal she was cooking.

Rose felt her heart rate speed up. There was no getting out of it this time.

A million thoughts raced through her mind. She didn't think she was ready to speak about Jack. Her heart ached every time he appeared back in her mind. Jack had left her all alone, and she was carrying his child. She had promised to keep living, and part of her felt angry she had made that promise. Now she was alone. Or maybe she wasn't. She had Frances.

Since her arrival in New York, Rose had been able to keep up this whole facade of herself. She no longer had to be the girl she had become so distant and unrecognizable from. Rose Dawson was a new version of herself.

Though she knew her dreams of opening up would finally come true, the young woman was terrified. Fears of her friend no longer accepting her for keeping this a secret or her outright not believing her flooding every crevice of her mind. Frances was a very accepting woman, especially when it came to her dear friend Rose. When she told her she didn't want to open up to her back in August, she accepted it for what it was. Why would that be different now?

When Frances returned, she had a bowl of soup in her hand that was quickly passed to Rose. There was little talk as she ate. The sun had now gone down, the stars beginning lighting up the night sky. A few candles and a small light were the only things lighting up Rose's bedroom.

After she finished eating, Rose set her dishes on the floor, making a mental note to pick them up in the morning.

"It's getting late, maybe you should head home?" Rose said, making one last effort to ditch the discussion for tonight.

Frances glared at the younger girl, both amused and annoyed that she was once again trying to push off giving answers. "Rose, please just talk to me. I'm your friend. You can trust me." She briefly grabbed her friend's hand comfortingly.

Taking a deep breath, Rose looked down. She didn't know where to start- or even _how_ to start. There was so much she could say. She thought of Jack, Cal, her mother, the Titanic, and all her inner thoughts over the course of the past half year, trying to find the right place to begin.

"Well… I guess the place to start is when I came into New York." She decided to start somewhere that Frances would be familiar with. The two had met days after Rose arrived in New York. Back then she had told Frances that she was new to the city.

"You see, before I arrived here, I hadn't been Rose Dawson."

Frances had a look on her face, as if something had clicked in her mind. "Were you married before your arrival here?"

"No, not exactly." Rose could feel herself becoming frustrated. She didn't know how to say what she wanted to say in a way that made sense. Sighing, she said, "About a week before we met, I was returning to America to get married to my then fiance. We decided to sail aboard the RMS Titanic, seeing as it was her maiden voyage."

This obviously stunned Frances. Her jaw nearly hit the floor. She hadn't realized that Rose had been one of the many girls who came to the girls home after the disaster. So many newcomers had made their way into the facility that month, at least a few dozen orphans and widows. They had nowhere else to turn to.

She had never bothered to ask Rose what had brought her there. It was unprofessional to ask, and many girls came for their own reasons that they preferred not to discuss.

Instead of saying anything, she waited for her friend to continue.

"Back then I was Rose DeWitt Bukater, engaged to Caledon Hockley, heir of some steel tycoon. He was much older than I was. It was a loveless engagement that my mother had forced me into. She was scared of losing all our money. She thought it was our only way out of debt, and _my_ only way into a secure life. Never once were my thoughts on the matter considered"

It felt odd to admit all these things out loud. Never in her life would she admit how she truly felt about her mother and her engagement. She had only done so with Jack, and admittedly that felt wrong in a sense. She had always been told never to distrust those in her life that had power over her, that they always knew what was best for her.

Frances, who always seemed to have input, wasn't sure what to say. She was quite confused, not knowing what to think of the situation. In the back of her mind, she vaguely remembered hearing something about a Rose DeWitt Bukater, but she couldn't bring the memory to light.

"You mean, he died or something?" Thinking for a few seconds, she was even more confused. "But your last name is Dawson?"

Rose opened her mouth to speak again, then shut it. "_How do I explain this?"_

"I'm just getting started, Frances. It's a rather long story." she nervously let out a breath. "While on board I felt so distant from myself. My whole life felt like one long story that you knew the ending of right from the beginning. It was the same routine everyday, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't get out of it. I felt trapped in my own body."

Bringing herself back into the mind of Rose DeWitt Bukater was strange. That girl was so unrecognizable, yet so similar with her struggles as Rose Dawson. At least in some aspects.

Continuing, she went on to describe her plot to end her own life. She admitted how it was a decision made without thought, and how if she gave herself time to calm down, she wouldn't have done it.

"But while I was standing on the other side of the railing, looking into the sea, a man helped me change my mind. He saved me."

_The man who had saved her life helped turn her so she was facing him. Whistling out of relief, he introduced himself. "I'm Jack Dawson."_

_It was the first time she could really see him. Before, he had been more out the corner of her eye. But now, looking at him, she felt oddly safe. Perhaps it was because he had just saved her life. I probably look ridiculous, is what she was thinking to herself._

_Tears were fresh on her cheeks, smearing the little makeup she had on. Her hair was blowing around in the wind, a mess she had created fifteen minutes ago out of anger. Despite all this, she felt he didn't mind. She knew he wouldn't be judging her. The young girl wasn't certain why, but she felt safe with this man… Jack._

"_Rose DeWitt Bukater." she had replied, still bewildered from what she had just tried to do, and from the man who had saved her._

"_I'll have to get you to write that one down." _

"His name was Jack Dawson."

_..._

_October 16, 1912_

Neither one of the girls knew how long their conversation had been going on. Neither one cared either. Rose and Frances were so deep in conversation that time was the least of their worries.

What they both knew was that the sun was starting to rise. Soon they would both need to get ready for work, though that was buried deep in their minds.

Rose had been spilling out every detail of what she had been through half a year prior. She couldn't stop. She didn't want to either. She talked of how Jack had been a friend to her, something she never had before then. Frances learned of all the trouble the two had gotten into, as well as the horrors they experienced.

Everything was starting to piece together in Frances' mind. She was finally able to understand why her friend was so troubled. How could one not be with the kind of demons that were looming over Rose's shoulder every day?

Rose didn't just speak of her experiences on board, but the ones off too. She told of her immense survivor's guilt. Not just for Jack- but for his friends. The look on Helga's face when she saw her at the stern, scared, yet friendly and warm. And all she could do was offer her a small smile. The two didn't spend any time together, but Rose had seen her a number of times. She looked so happy with Fabrizio.

After their conversation, the two girls were brought closer to one another. Rose felt more secure than she had in a long time. A deep hole in her chest had been filled, at least the part that could be healed.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you left Cal. I just can't imagine that life for you."

Rose smiled at her friend. Having someone to really trust with your stories was a wonderful feeling. "I couldn't either."

Though they both knew the sun had come up, it just dawned on Rose that it really was the morning. "Oh my!" she said aloud, "the sun is already coming up, we must start getting ready for work."

She stood up, remembering to take her dishes from the previous night to the kitchen. The house was freezing. Winter was approaching faster than she realized. What would she do then? She didn't have the luxuries she once did. Winters were always warm back home. Here would be different.

Frances didn't have time to return home, so she borrowed a nice blouse and skirt from her friend to wear to work. Rose tried to get ready for her day at the diner, but something wasn't right. Her body was aching. She knew it was exhausted from staying up all night, but she had dealt with exhaustion many times before. The young woman once had many sleepless nights after the sinking. She just had to push through it.

"Rose. I think you need to stay home today." Frances had been watching her all morning. There was no denying the fact that her body needed rest.

Shaking her head, Rose said, "No, I can't afford to miss work. I haven't missed a single shift since I started working there. And besides, they need me and I need the money."

"Well, you won't exactly be much help if you're so tired you can't focus. Take this one day off. For you and the baby. Maybe get some work down around the house."

After much convincing, Frances had finally gotten Rose to agree on staying home. Rose had written out a note, and on her way to work Frances would drop it off for her.

Though Rose didn't think she needed the day off, it would be nice to relax. Her body wasn't the only thing that felt strained. Her mind was tired as well from releasing everything she had kept locked inside.

Before the clock struck noon, Frances left for work. Now alone, Rose tried to decide what to do for the rest of the day. She didn't want to sleep. If she did, her whole sleep schedule would be thrown off.

Cleaning was her first task. There wasn't much to do around the house though, considering she usually picked up after herself as quickly as possible. Still, Rose sang aloud to herself as she swept her living room and tidied up her bedroom. She had forgotten how much she loved to sing.

Art was something that always stuck out to Rose. She never understood why her mother and Cal didn't find it to be as amazing as she did. The house she had grown up in was filled with priceless artifacts from all over the globe. It always fascinated Rose as a young child. It was one of the only things she missed about her life in Philadelphia.

Thinking about her love for art motivated Rose in more ways than she thought. Art came in many forms. It wasn't something you just looked at. It was everywhere, and there were so many different elements to it. Suddenly, Rose found the ambition to once again start something she had given up hope on long ago.

After cleaning, Rose sat down at her dining room table, pen and paper resting on top of it. She already had somewhat of an idea for what she'd be writing. It was an idea she had been carrying around for well over a year. As her love for acting grew, she longed to write her own story. Something different from any other movie or play she had seen before.

Picking up her pen, Rose began to write out the ideas that had been dormant in her mind for so long. The words came to her easy. As she wrote, she thought of Jack. She had told him of her dreams to become an artist. Maybe she really could do it. Or at least try it out. It was worth a shot, and it could certainly support her child better than her waitress job.

As she continued to jot down her ideas for her play, Rose placed a hand on her stomach. "_This is for you. For us." _She wasn't sure if by "us" she meant the baby, or Jack as well. Either way, she felt more confident in herself than she had in a long time.

Things were starting to look up for Rose, and she knew Jack would be with her every step of the way.

**(A/N: This took me a lot longer to get up than I meant it to. I hope everyone is enjoying this story, I appreciate the reviews :). This story won't go on much longer, but I have other story ideas if anyone would be interested. Stay safe everyone!)**


	7. Seven

_November 28, 1912_

It was Thanksgiving morning. Rose didn't have many plans. She was due in a little over a month, and moving around when she didn't have to felt unnecessary to her. And besides, she didn't have anyone to celebrate with. Frances was having dinner with William and Mabel. They had invited her as well, but she declined their offer. It was going to be their first holiday as a family, and Rose wanted them to enjoy it alone.

She was spending her morning laying in bed. Either she wanted to rest a little longer, or get some more sleep. Either outcome was okay with Rose. Every day seemed to be much of the same as of late. She was slowly falling into a more comfortable routine. But on days like this, where she had nothing to do and no responsibilities, it felt nice to relax and reflect.

Over the course of the last month, she had been working on her play seemingly nonstop. She was eager to finish it, though she wasn't sure what she'd do once she did. She knew nothing about how plays worked or how to get them on the stage. She wasn't too sure that hers would be any good anyway. After all, it was her first time writing. Of course over the years she had kept journals to vent out her feelings when she had no one else. But that was different. This was _real _writing.

She enjoyed just the feeling of writing. It made her feel proud and productive. Like after all these years she had proved her mother wrong. Women _could _get by on their own. They didn't need money or a suitable husband to help them survive. Times were changing, and Rose was excited that her child would get to experience the change as they grew up.

Ever since she had her talk with Frances, Rose felt much happier. She wasn't sure why exactly, but she was glad change was occurring in her life for the better. It seemed that throughout her whole life everything was constantly changing. This was even more so in the last five years of her life. Once she became a teenager, it seemed as though all that happened was change. Nothing ever stayed the same for too long.

Especially not after the death of her father. Henry DeWitt Bukater was a bitter man with an equally bitter heart. He was rarely home during Rose's childhood, and when he was he was constantly bickering with her mother. He was much like any other man with high social status: money hungry and desperate for an heir. The fact that his only child was a daughter angered him. Rose felt that that was the reason he resented her so much. He died in the winter of 1909, just weeks after his daughter's fourteenth birthday. It wasn't necessarily an unexpected death, seeing as the man had suffered with health issues his whole life. But that also didn't mean that it was any less troublesome for his widow and daughter.

It seemed as though immediately after his death, her mother went into a mad dash, desperately trying to find a suitable husband for her daughter. Ruth thought it was the only way to save her family estate, along with all their other valuables. Her searches eventually led her to the Hockley family. They were in a situation so perfect it seemed almost destined. Rose was in need of a husband, and Hockley Steel was in need of an heir. So then their fates were seemingly sealed.

But now, in just three days, Rose would be turning eighteen. And she was without nearly everything she had had a year prior. No fiance, no fortunes, no heirs for the Hockley family.

Her plans for her birthday were simple. Frances was to come over with Mabel. William had a business meeting, and it was a Sunday, so both girls were off work. They figured they could celebrate by taking out Mabel to have some girl bonding. Rose saw much of her younger self in Mabel. Lacking the perfect combination of a mother and father in her life. She was glad that Frances had shown up in the Calvert's lives, just as she had shown up in her's.

Calvert and Frances had been dating for nearly four months now. Mabel had begun to take a liking to Frances, which she didn't mind at all. She adored every aspect of the small girl. So far, Mabel had spent her whole life without a major female influence, so Frances was easing her way into her and Calvert's life.

Rose was happy for her friend. The jealousy was still there, lurking in the back of her mind. She tried not to let it get to her. She knew it was silly to dwell on ideas such as the ones she had. _"If Jack were here, everything would be perfect." _She couldn't stop the thought from bringing itself to the front of her mind. She knew it was true. What else would she need in life if he were there by her and their child's side? Briefly, she thought of his fine, artist hands moving across her swollen stomach. It only made her crave their touch more.

Not being able to shake the thoughts, Rose finally sat up. Her stomach had grown to be extremely uncomfortable, and she couldn't seem to find any comfortable position to sleep in. The thought she had just been thinking didn't help matters. Every night seemed to drag on longer than the previous one. Half of the night was spent tossing and turning, moving pillows in different places in a desperate plea to get some rest.

Frances was convinced that Rose was having a boy. Though she herself wasn't too sure about what the gender would be. She had never really thought of it. Weren't mothers supposed to have some sort in intuition? That's what Rose had read. She knew she wouldn't care about the sex of her baby. She silently hoped it would be a boy, though. There was simple reasoning behind this: she knew what she would name them.

Rose had decided that if the child was a boy, she'd name him Jack after its father. If it was a girl, then she had no idea what she'd name them. Naming a whole person somewhat made her feel pressured. A name is more than something people call you. It defines who you are and where you came from. Every name has a story.

This was nothing but fact to her. Rose DeWitt Bukater was a completely different person from Rose Dawson. They had completely opposite lives, even personalities. She knew she had to be careful when picking out a name.

Nearly every person Rose met throughout her life commented on her hair being related to her name. That made her feel like her name was fitting. How would she know if a name she chose was fitting?

Finally getting out of bed, Rose bathed and changed into a simple olive green dress and pinned her hair back. The young girl remembered telling herself that she wouldn't buy any maternity clothes, but she finally caved once the small amount of fitting clothes stopped working for her. Perhaps she had been rather naive then. She underestimated just how much her stomach would eventually swell. She was glad she was nearing the last weeks of her pregnancy. The dress she wore today was one she was in often. It was the most comfortable one she owned, and the high waistband made moving around more comfortable.

Rose wasn't really sure why she was getting ready. She had no plans. It was probably just a habit, she thought. Her whole life, she got ready no matter what her plans were. She always had to look prim and proper no matter the occasion. Even when she was sick, she remembered Trudy braiding her hair so she looked somewhat presentable.

Much of the afternoon was spent with the window open, fresh air being invited in. Rose wrote for the majority of the time, only stopping once to eat. Writing was something that made her feel free. She could write about anything she wanted with no boundaries, and no one to tell her to change things- her only critic was herself. That didn't mean she was easy on herself. So many times she had to restart her play, not liking the path the characters were taking.

The lead character was a girl who she modeled lightly after herself and Frances. She wanted the lead to be female: strong, independent and determined. That was something you didn't get to see very often on the stage. Women were to do so much more than sit back and be decorative. That was how Rose felt much of her own life, and she could prove her point through the fake narrative.

Once the sun started to set, Rose got up to close the window. Sunsets were something that the young woman never appreciated in the past, and over the course of the year she began to admire their beauty more and more. They symbolized that despite all the harsh worries of the world, every journey can end beautifully. No matter what the sun will once again shine after the dark, cold night passes. The orange and pink hues they exhibit always seemed so inviting. And as the final rays of the sun always dipped down the horizon, Rose felt as if it were the sun waving goodbye to her, promising that it would rise again.

Closing her eyes, she was brought back to the memory on the bow of the ill fated Titanic. It was during one of the most beautiful moments she had experienced thus far. She breathed in slowly, reliving the memory of when she was flying, the cold ocean breeze and golden sunset making her skin glow. The smile across her face was genuine. She had never felt so at ease, like she had broken free from the confinements of her old life. Jack had set her free.

It was almost like she could feel Jack's arms around her at that moment. It was comforting. She didn't have to be alone anymore. Opening her eyes, Rose stole one last glance at the sunset before shutting the window, the curtain following suit.

...

Rose had been sitting alone at her dining room table, stirring the leftover soup she had heated up, thinking of her future when a knock came at the door.

She had taken a break from her writing for the night to think about all she could be thankful for. as she sat down to eat Thanksgiving the year prior she would have been with her mother and Cal, having dinner at the Hockley mansion. The DeWitt Bukater family was never big on holidays, but the day seemed like a perfect opportunity for Cal to show off his new fiancee.

Nathan Hockley had been nearing the end of his life when Rose got engaged to his son. He was rather sickly, and Cal was desperate to gain an heir to his father's business so he could get his inheritance.

Everything had happened so quickly. She had barely known Cal before they were engaged. Her mother told her that this was normal. Rose desperately wanted to tell her mother that she didn't love Cal and that she didn't want this for herself. But she held back, as she knew what the answer would be.

"_I got married young too, Rose. I didn't have love for your father. Not at first, but you learn to love." _Ruth had mentioned this to her daughter once before. It didn't help in comforting Rose. The young girl knew how loveless her parents' marriage was.

The young girl tried everything she could to push the wedding back further. Maybe if she could hold it off long enough, everyone would get tired of waiting and it would be cancelled. Rose knew that wouldn't happen, but she desperately wanted to find a way out. She complained about anything and everything she could, argued with her mother over simple things that she really couldn't care less about. The trip to Europe had been just the distraction she needed to hold it off. But, the final date had been set for April 26th. She was glad she never had to face that day.

Rose got up and opened her front door. On the other side stood Frances. She was holding Mabel in one arm, and a bag in the other. Calvert stood behind the pair, holding a bag of his own.

Giving a puzzled look, she invited them inside.

"It's awfully cold out there." Rose said. "What brings you three over here this evening?"

Frances smiled, setting Mabel down. The small girl looked around the room, her big brown eyes full of curiosity. She trotted over to the bookshelf and began looking at the arrangement.

"We couldn't let you spend the evening alone, Rose." Frances replied a few moments later.

"Oh, no! It's quite alright. I didn't want to intrude on your dinner."

Calvert, now setting the food out on her table, was the next to speak. "Don't be absurd, Rose. The three of us talked it over. We'd all be delighted if you'd let us spend this holiday with you."

Rose smiled. She hadn't been expecting this, but she felt happy that the offer had been brought to her. She wouldn't have minded spending the night alone, but she was elated to know that they were thinking of her.

"Well, it seems as though you're already setting the table. Let me get plates." Rose said, walking into the kitchen, taking her bowl of now cold soup with her.

The four of them spent the rest of the evening talking amongst themselves. They discussed what the future would hold for everyone. Rose was pleased that the couple could understand what she was going through. All of their lives were changing in one way or another.

William gave her advice on her pregnancy, and said if she had an emergency that she could find a phone to call his office. Rose was thankful for this offer. She had a doctor, but she was still scared knowing that any time within the next month her child could be born.

It seemed that as soon as they arrived, the trio had to leave. They each had work the next morning- excluding Mabel. After they said their goodbyes, Rose sat down on her loveseat, sighing. She felt exhausted. Her body needed rest. She fought the urge to sleep right then, because she knew she needed to do one more thing before she let exhaustion take her over.

Seated at her dining room table once again, Rose lit a candle. She thought of what she would be doing if Jack were with her. Would they have celebrated the way she had tonight with her friends? She was sure that they would have done something together.

"Jack, part of me feels so wrong celebrating these moments without you." Rose said quietly to herself. "I know how ridiculous that sounds, believe me I do. I just wish you could be here with me and our baby."

Sighing, she leaned forward, resting her head on her hands. "Why does everything have to be so unfair? I've been trying to make each day count, just like you would have. I think I'm doing it well enough, but something still feels missing."

Rose knew what the missing piece was. It was Jack. It would always be Jack. She was reminded of him everyday. He was everywhere she looked. He was everything she looked at. And for the rest of her life, she'd have a constant reminder of the love that she lost, and the life that could've been.

This was both a blessing and a curse for the young woman. Would her child miss their father the way that she missed him? No, she thought, they won't even get to meet him. Perhaps it would be a different kind of missing. She feared that her child would feel the way she did about her own father, though those two situations were somewhat different.

Rose's father had been alive for most of her life, he just chose not to make an effort. He wasn't expected to either. Her own child wouldn't get that relationship because their father was no longer alive- right from the start. But they'd still miss out all the same. Right then and there, she promised herself that she would make certain that her child knew of their father. She would tell them every story and try to paint a picture in her child's mind about what Jack looked like, and who he was.

"I hope that wherever you are, you're proud of me Jack. I promise I won't let you down."

With exhaustion finally getting the better of her, Rose blew out the candle and headed to bed.

That night, she dreamt of Jack. Only this time, it wasn't another one of her nightmares. And for the first time in a long time, she slept through the whole night peacefully.


	8. Eight

_December 31, 1912_

It was nearly the end of 1912. Rose was eager for a new year. A new year would mean a new start for the now eighteen year old girl. The next year was looking bright for her. She was due to have her child any day now, and she had just recently gotten a raise at work.

Over time, Rose began to appreciate her time at the diner more and more. It felt like a safe space for her. Talking to other people made her feel alive. Being locked up at home so often with no one to spend her time with but her thoughts tormented her. Whether it seemed like it or not, Rose was a social girl. She'd grown up in the spotlight, hearing nothing but gossip along with every meal. Talking to others was refreshing, even if it was only for a brief moment as she took an order or placed down a meal.

Not only was the new year looking good for Rose, but for Frances as well. On Christmas day, Calvert had proposed to her. This came after only four months of being together, which somewhat surprised Rose. She remembered an earlier conversation she had Frances where she confided in her that she wanted to take things slow with William. It seemed as though he thought different, and from what Frances had told her, she had changed her mind as well.

"Love can change a lot about what you feel." was what Rose told her. "It opens your mind to things you didn't believe in before, it changes the way you think."

The reasoning behind this sudden engagement was that Calvert felt he had so much wasted time in his life. He didn't want to waste any more time than he already had. And besides, marrying this fast wasn't uncommon or unheard of. Rose herself was being married off to a man she had only known for a little over a year just last April.

Rose spent the recent holiday at home, not having anything else to do. Now expecting the arrival of her child any day now, the young woman had been collecting items she'd need to use upon the delivery of her child. The day after Christmas, Frances, Calvert and Mabel had stopped by to help her set up her crib. That made the whole situation more real to her.

Of course she knew it was coming all along, but for some reason she couldn't fathom the fact that it was really happening. As the days got closer, the more anxious she felt. Was she really fit to be a mother? She knew nothing about parenting. Rose's whole life she had been raised by countless maids, nannies or other people hired by her parents. It took her months to figure out how to properly take care of herself without relying on anyone. And now, there'd be a whole other person leaning on her for support every moment of every day.

The other half of her was glad she was able to do this alone. If she were still with her mother and her old life, she knew she wouldn't get to raise her child alone. The moment the child was born it'd be handled by the same nannies that once took care of her. At least if she was by herself she could raise her child the way she wanted to.

One of her biggest fears was the baby having to grow up as she had. She knew nothing of the world. All of its beauties were hidden behind her sheltered walls. She had never got to play in the winter snow, jump in a river under the hot summer air, pick the flowers that bloomed in the calm spring weather, or jump in a homemade leaf pile in the fall.

Rose's biggest goal as a mother would be to raise her child that Jack described his life as. She wanted them to travel across the continent, seeing the various structures and marvels of the world. Visit other countries and meet new people. That was the main reason she hoped her play would gain traction. Not for her, but also for her unborn child.

"_A little bit of money can go a long way." _is what she thought to herself. If anything drastic were to happen, she had a few twenties stashed away that were left from Cal's coat. In some sense, that money felt tainted. But Rose knew that if she needed it, it was necessary to use. A man that she was once helplessly bound to had given it to her, even if he didn't know it at the time. Rose used to resent when Cal spent his money on her, but now she was glad for it. How things have changed in the last year.

Now, Rose was reading a book in her living room, passing the time until it was midnight. Usually, the young woman didn't stay up late. Not purposefully at least- most of the time it was her swollen stomach that kept her up all night. It felt as though she needed to stay awake that night for some reason. She wanted to be awake when the new year began.

Everything that had happened in 1912 could be left behind and forgotten. It was such an odd year. If the Rose a year prior could see her now, she'd be in complete disbelief. She wasn't living the life she expected, but that wasn't a bad thing. Thinking over those in her life, she thought of the many faces she was so familiar with. Would any of those people be proud of who she had become? She thought of Jack. Of course he would be proud of her. He had wanted nothing else but to see Rose prosper, free from the iron grasp of her family.

Oddly enough, Molly Brown had also come to mind. The sweet, caring woman in first class. The two were more alike than Rose initially realized: free women stuck in a high class shell. The only difference between them was that unlike Rose, Molly had chosen that life for herself. Once her husband struck gold, she jumped right into the life that Rose so much resented. But could Rose really blame her for that? Anyone in their right mind would have taken an offer like that. But not Rose. All she wanted was to break free. So she did.

She tried not to think about it, but she couldn't help it. What would have happened if she had ended up back in Philadelphia, marrying Cal? She'd be Rose Hockley. The sound of it alone was enough to make her feel sick.

Maybe they wouldn't have gotten married even if he had found her on the decks of the Carpathia. Cal would most likely look past everything that happened between her and Jack on Titanic, knowing that he was dead and he would still receive his inheritance. But she was carrying his illegitimate child. The child of someone who was nothing but a good for nothing vagabond, a disgrace to someone in their status. That, he couldn't look past. The media wouldn't either. It would be a major scandal that would ruin both the Hockley and DeWitt Bukater images alike. Then what would become of Cal's precious inheritance?

Ever since the news of her death was published, she hadn't heard anything regarding Cal. She didn't care for him, but part of her mind still feared that one day he'd learn of her secret. If he found out that she was alive, Rose knew their meetup would be inevitable for one reason or another. If not regarding their former engagement, then of his priceless piece of jewelry she was in possession of.

There was no doubt in Rose's mind that he was looking for his lost diamond. There's no way that he meant to give it to her. Giving her his coat was in the heat of the moment. He was desperate to make one last effort to win her over. Jack was standing in between the love he thought they could have. His efforts didn't work though. They never would. She didn't understand why he tried so hard to love her, even when she showed her true emotions towards him loud and clear. Had he hated Jack _that _much? So much that he would make every and any effort to show his love? It was pathetic, yet Rose pitied him for some odd reason.

Rose could easily be replaced, just as she knew she would be. A piece of jewelry such as The Heart of the Ocean was a whole different case. There was nothing else like it on the planet, and there was no way that it could just be replaced. Nathan Hockley had spent- quite literally- a fortune on the diamond.

Rose suddenly knew what that life would have held for her. It would be full of priceless pieces of jewelry, more dresses and riches than she could ever imagine. It would be a loveless marriage, and Rose would bear children to a man she resented, solely so he could receive his fortunes. Women went through these situations all the time. Even her mother had. But yet, they had all just gone along with it, doing what they thought was best for their family. Rose wondered why she couldn't be like them. Why couldn't she just sit back and accept her fate like the rest?

_"They've got you trapped, Rose. And you're gonna die if you don't break free. Maybe not right away because you're strong... but. Sooner or later that fire that I love about you, Rose, that fire's gonna burn out." _Jack was why. He had shown her that she didn't need to sit back and let it happen. She didn't have to. If only she had realized it sooner. Maybe she could've had more time with Jack.

Looking to her clock for the time, Rose set down her book. It was five minutes to midnight. The time had flown by since she last checked. Wrapping a small blanket around her shoulders, Rose unlocked her apartment door, stepping outside. The freezing New York air immediately hit her face.

Winters in New York were more similar to the ones she experienced back in Philadelphia than she realized. They weren't the same by any means, but more alike than she had expected. Luckily, she was able to heat up her apartment on most nights, so being cold wasn't as big of a deal as she thought it'd be.

Looking over the dimly lit apartment complex, Rose spotted Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. Robert had his arm over his wife, Mandy, as they looked up to the night sky. Rose would forever be grateful for Frances' parents for giving her a place to live. The couple had lived in New York their whole life, and wanted to help out struggling people. Many other residents of the complex were like her, not having anyone to turn or talk to.

Breathing in the cold winter air, Rose thought of everything she wanted to accomplish in the fastly approaching year. She definitely wanted to have her baby as soon as possible. She knew that it wasn't really up to her, but she was tired of being so uncomfortable all the time. Another thing she hoped to do was finish her play. If that was achievable or not, she would figure out. Providing for her growing family was of major importance.

But the biggest thing she wanted to do was to find a new sense of normal for her life. The past year had been anything _but _normal for her, and she felt determined to change that. Though the year may not have been desirable for most, Rose was on her way to being happy. She knew that things were starting to fall into place. With her child and steady job, she knew that the pieces of the puzzle were coming together. It was satisfying to know that she had proved everyone in her life wrong. She didn't need anyone to help her succeed. She silently wished her mother could see her now, working and being with child. Surely she'd collapse at the thought of it.

Suddenly, she heard light commotion coming from the surrounding apartments. It was midnight. Taking a deep breath, Rose closed her eyes. "_A new year. Make it count." _She smiled up to the sky, thinking of Jack. "_My first thought of the year is of you, my love. Happy New Year, Jack." _

A thought of Jack passed through her mind, and Rose was instantly infatuated by it. He stood before her on the deck of the Titanic, his carelessly styled blonde hair blowing in the wind. The ocean air was chilled, much like how it felt in that moment. His smile was contagious as he talked about his travels throughout Europe. Rose loved the way he beamed when he talked about his experiences. She admired the way his ocean blue eyes filled with adventure and excitement as he described the places he'd been. His tan skin glowed in the orange sunset, making the blue hues in his eyes pop more. She felt herself feeling happy and oddly safe and content. She wanted nothing more but to savor the moment. But just as soon as he had appeared in her mind, the memory slipped away. Almost as if her mind had been trying to tease her with the moment gone by too soon.

Frustratingly opening her eyes, Rose saw the figures of the Holmes' couple doing the same as she just was, looking up to the sky. She looked up to the pair. Their love was something Rose longed for with Jack. A happy marriage that would last the test of time. Frances once told her that they had been together since Mandy was nineteen and Robert was twenty-four. A few years later she was born.

Mandy was a sweet lady. Getting to know her parents, Rose came to understand how Frances had turned out so great. Mandy was very sweet and kind to Rose, and treated her as if she were her own daughter. In some ways, she seemed more excited about the upcoming birth than Rose herself was. It comforted the soon-to-be mother to know that she had people to support her.

"Happy New Year, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes!" Rose called to them.

The couple turned their heads. Mandy waved to her, her graying chestnut hair blowing in the light wind. "And to you, sweetie."

Taking one last glance at the night sky, Rose retreated back to the warmth of her house. Feeling content with how she rang in the new year, she knew it was time for bed. Her body had been calling out to her for quite some time, begging to get some rest. Her muscles ached with soreness. She wasn't looking forward to another sleepless night, but she wasn't opposed to it either. The new year brought a new hope for Rose. Nothing was going to destroy that.

Settling in bed after what felt like forever, Rose closed her eyes. It was 1913. She had made it to a new year. 1912 was done and over with. She could leave behind the memory of Rose DeWitt Bukater and all her struggles. Now, she could focus on shaping into Rose Dawson once and for all. No one would be able to recognize that girl lost at sea almost a year ago.

The young woman was finally ready to let go of the past. She was tired of being restrained by the chains of the past. Maybe it was rather cliche, but the new year also meant a new her. If there was a good reason to restart, it would be now. She had finally broken free, once and for all. And this time, she didn't have to hide behind the walls of emotions that dared to fall any minute, revealing all her secrets to the ones that were hurting her the most. Rose DeWitt Bukater was gone, and for the first time since the sinking, Rose accepted that.

"_Make it count." _was her last thought as her mind drifted off to sleep. And maybe it was just her imagination, but she swore she heard Jack say it back to her. She would make every moment count.

**(A/N: This book is nearing its end! hope everyone is staying safe and healthy.)**


	9. Nine

_January 9, 1913_

Rose had been in pain all night and into the early hours of the morning. She knew something was wrong when it felt as though her stomach was cramping, eventually feeling as sore as though she had just been exercising. After managing to get herself over to the Holmes' apartment (located just across from hers) to use their phone, Rose called Frances.

Everything seemed like a blur. Within twenty minutes she was back at her house, Calvert having dropped Mabel off with his soon-to-be in-laws. He and Frances helped her get comfortable. William told her she was in labor, which wasn't a shock to Rose. The baby had been expected to come any day for nearly two weeks. In fact, Rose was just starting to feel as though the baby would never come.

The hours seemed to tick by as slow as possible. The pain Rose was feeling was unmatched compared to anything else she had experienced. She longed for the pain to end. All day had been spent in bed, with the soon to be married couple preparing to deliver her baby any moment. She wanted nothing more than to be out of bed and no longer in pain.

Rose trusted Frances to help with the delivery. She was in training to become a nurse, and with William being a doctor, she felt safe. Safety wasn't a concern, but loneliness was. Frances tried to be there for her, but she felt as if she were still alone. "Jack should be here." Rose couldn't help but say it. The words escaped from her mouth before she had time to stop them.

Thinking of him during a time like this was inescapable. He was the father of her child. He _should _be there. Helping her through every small pain. Rose liked to think that maybe he was there with her. Somehow.

Frances glanced up at her friend, seeing the pain in her eyes. She gave her a solemn look as Rose squeezed her hand tighter. "I know. It's okay. Soon the baby will be here and you'll feel better. Just try and think about that." Truthfully, Frances wasn't sure what kind of advice to give to her friend. She couldn't imagine being in Rose's situation. It made Frances think of her fiance, and how he must have felt the day Mabel was born, the same day he had lost his wife.

"He would have loved to have a family. He was so-" Rose stopped, a sudden pain taking away her breath. Talking about Jack pained her, but comforted the soon to be mother at the same time. She was glad that she told everything about him to Frances. Right now she needed someone to be there for her who truly understood what she was feeling.

As far as everyone else in her life had known, the father of her child had died in an accident shortly before her arrival to New York. It wasn't a lie, but being specific and telling the details of the situation was a deep story that Rose didn't want to get into. The only one who knew the truth besides her was Frances.

As the day wore off into the night, Rose's pains grew worse. And before she knew it her baby had entered the world. The moment she laid eyes on her child and heard its cries, she knew that all the pain had been worth it.

"Log the time, Frances. We'll measure and weigh the child after we clean Rose up." William said, wiping sweat off his face. He looked stressed, even sounded it. Nearly his whole day had been spent at the apartment. Rose felt a pang of guilt in that moment. The pain subsided for a brief second as she looked up to him. He wasn't the only one who hadn't slept in nearly twenty-four hours.

"Thank you." Rose tried to say to Calvert. Her voice was hoarse. She felt weak.

"It's no problem, Rose. This is my job after all. You don't have to feel bad for anything." Somehow, he had known exactly what she was thinking moments before. The small interaction did ease her guilt.

Nearly ten minutes later, William finished examining and cleaning up Rose. He left the room for a brief moment to get some air. He wanted to give her some time with the baby before coming back in to do measurements.

"10:09." Frances muttered to herself from the corner of the room. Logging the time, she began wiping off the newly born baby. Rose felt a sudden urge to be close to the child. She had only gotten a glimpse of them since they had entered the world. "There we go. All better. Let's get you to your mama." Frances had just finished swaddling the small child. Now, she was walking over to place the baby in its mother's arms.

Upon being laid in the arms of its new mother, the child stopped crying. Rose gasped as Frances helped her sit her up. The baby had more hair than she anticipated a newborn would have. It felt thick, having the same blonde glow as its father, but the loose flowing curls of its mother. She couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the small life she had created.

"Congratulations, Rose." Frances smiled over her friend's shoulder. "So does this make me Auntie Frances now?"

Rose let out a small chuckle. "Of course. I couldn't imagine it any other way." Rubbing her finger across her baby's cheek, she felt the soft tenderness of its skin. A tear slipped down her cheek. She could hardly believe something this precious could be hers.

Looking into the baby's eyes, she noticed that they seemed to be a deep blue, just like their father. The child seemed to be a spitting image of their father, at least in the most noticeable aspects. As the baby grew older, Rose knew she'd be able to see their features better. There was no doubt in her mind that this child was hers, but truth be told Rose thought nearly all newborns look the same.

"Do you know the gender?" she suddenly realized that in all the commotion, she forgot to ask.

Frances nodded. "A beautiful baby girl."

Rose smiled, giving a smug look to her friend. "Looks like you were wrong. I win." She lifted her head up in a mocking manner.

"It wasn't a competition!" Frances laughed. It wasn't often that Rose joked around with her. She thought that her friend was rather amusing. She wished she'd act like this more often.

"Oh, I know. I'm just messing with you." There was a slight pause in her words, "but isn't she beautiful?"

"She looks just like you." Frances awed at the small child. "She's the first baby I helped deliver. I was nervous, but both you and her are okay. I think I did a pleasant job."

"I'm glad to have had you by my side through all of this. _But_," Rose kissed into her daughters blonde curls, "I think she resembles her father quite a bit. I mean, just look at her hair. She definitely didn't get that blonde from me. And her eyes are blue. She's all Jack." Frances just laughed in agreement. Rose was happy that she could say things about Jack that her friend would understand, just as if she'd known him before.

The two girls conversed some more before Calvert came back in, ready to finish the process of measuring the baby girl. She was rather petite, which Rose was somewhat surprised about. She felt absolutely humongous when she was in her delicate condition. She hoped that soon enough she'd be able to fit in her regular clothes again.

It was almost one in the morning, and Frances and William were planning on staying the night at Rose's request. They were going to leave, but Rose didn't feel ready for it yet. She wanted some support there for just a bit longer. And besides, Mabel had long been asleep at the Holmes' residence, so it only felt fitting for the couple to stay.

Rose hadn't moved much in the three hours since her daughter was born. She felt sore and weak, and all she wanted to do was admire her baby. Just hours earlier she couldn't wait to get out of bed, but now she couldn't dream of it.

The baby was fast asleep in her arms, now unswaddled. There was a tiny knock at her door as the couple entered. William wanted to take a picture of the new mother and child with his newly bought camera. Rose smiled at the kind gesture. Having this moment captured forever would be especially special, and Rose didn't have any other pictures of herself. Not anymore at least.

Two pictures had been taken. One of Rose and her child up close, and another featuring Frances. In that moment, Rose felt more joy than she had in years. She couldn't wait to one day give these photos to her daughter, being able to share the sweet memories with her. It made her wish she had a picture of Jack more than ever. Rose thought her daughter deserved to see her father as well.

After confirming that both mother and child would be okay for the night, William left the room. The couple had settled on sleeping on the floor. Rose offered them her bed, but of course they couldn't take her up on the offer. They created their own makeshift bed on the living room floor from extra blankets and pillows.

"May I?" Frances asked, walking over to Rose's bed.

"Of course." she scooted slightly, making room for her friend.

No one said anything for a brief moment. Nothing needed to be said. It was a comfortable silence, with both women stealing as many glances of the baby girl as they could. "I can't tell you how much this makes me want a baby of my own." Frances was the one to break the silence.

Rose giggled softly at her friend. "Even after seeing all the pain I went through these whole nine months?" If she was given the chance, Rose didn't think she'd be able to be pregnant again. She loved her daughter, but she was sure that she was enough.

"Definitely. Children are just wonderful. And just look at how tiny and peaceful she is." Frances thought about how to word what she wanted to say next. "I love Will, but I'd like to wait another year or two before having children. I'd like to be a nurse, and have us both be steady on our feet beforehand. I want the timing to be right."

"I don't know if there ever is a right time." Rose looked up from her baby for the first time in a long time. "I think that whenever it happens, it's meant to be." Rose felt that way about her daughter. The timing certainly hadn't been right by any means, but what she did know was that it was meant to happen. Jack got to live on because of this child, and she didn't have to be alone anymore.

"I get what you mean. But our situations are quite different." Frances' reply ended that conversation. Rose didn't have any more input on her friends ideas. But she was right, their situations were about as far off as it could get. "Have you thought of a name yet?"

Rose nodded her head. The only downside to having a girl was the name. She had a hard time deciding on something that had meaning to her. She didn't want to give her daughter just any name. There had to be a story behind it- a reason why it had been given to her.

"Josephine." Rose said softly, handing her baby off to Frances. She hadn't realized how sore her arms had become over the last few hours.

...

"_Come Josephine in my flying machine. And it's up she goes, up she goes. Ba- something yourself… like a bird on a beam in the air she goes. Where? There- There she goes!" Jack and Rose sang the tune of the popular song. Neither of them knew the words particularly well, but they both found it catchy. _

_They were making their way back to first class, after having danced below decks for what seemed like hours. The night sky looked beautiful, the stars seeming endless. The breeze of the cold ocean air chilled their previously warm bodies. They walked close together, both smiling bigger than they had all evening._

…

_Rose was standing on the railing of the Titanic during a beautiful sunset. Jack was behind her keeping her steady, playing with her hands. "Come Josephine in my flying machine. And it's up she goes, up she goes." Jack sang to her, remembering the moment the pair had shared the previous night. Rose laughed, a big smile spreading across her face. She felt that behind her, Jack was smiling too._

_Their hands finally intertwined, and Jack pulled them in so they were closer than ever before. Rose looked up to him, their lips inching closer and closer._

...

"Josephine Frances Dawson."

Frances breathed in heavily, looking up from the small infant. "Really?" Her voice was high pitched, indicating the excitement in her.

Rose looked into her friend's eyes. "Really. Frances, you've been here for me ever since I got to New York. Even before we were friends you were always so sweet and caring towards me. I want to honor you through my daughter." She laughed, "You are her aunt afterall."

"I-" Frances didn't speak for a moment. "Thank you. Her name is perfect. I like the sound of Josephine." She looked down to her newly born niece "I think I'll call you Josie. Or maybe Jo. You need a nickname that suits you, huh?"

Rose laughed at her friend. "Give it some time. I'm sure the perfect one will find its way to you eventually."

A few minutes later, Frances handed Josephine back to her mother, leaving the room to get some sleep. This left Rose and her daughter alone once again. She felt as though she couldn't get enough of her. Josephine seemed so perfect in every way.

"Oh, Jack. I wish you could be here right now. If you could only see her face. She's so beautiful. I just know you would have loved her." Rose spoke softly to herself. He had been in the back of her mind all day long. This wasn't unusual, but most of the time she was able to contain her thoughts. Today was different. The thoughts of Jack couldn't stay dormant. Not with his daughter laying in her arms.

Thinking of the fact that one day this child would grow up to be a whole person amazed her. She couldn't imagine it. Rose knew that she had to cherish her daughter being this small. One day, she'd be married, living off on her own. Suddenly, the new mother felt a strong urge to protect her daughter. She wanted the best for her. She wanted to provide for her, protecting her from all the bad things the world had to offer.

She felt a pang of pity that was foreign to her. It was towards her mother. Had she just been trying to protect her all this time? Had she felt the same love towards Rose that she felt towards Josephine? It seemed as though she'd never get the answer. Rose never wanted to speak to her mother. Maybe that would change in time, but for now, she knew she never would. What her mother had put her through was unforgivable. She wanted to put her through pain to save herself.

Shaking her head lightly, Rose stopped her thoughts. She didn't want to think about her mother right now. She had agreed not to let her thoughts get to her this new year. And besides, she had better things to think about. She smiled at her sleeping daughter once again. A wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over her.

Next to Rose's bed was an old bassinet that the Calvert's had gifted her. It used to hold Mabel when she was a baby, at least until she outgrew it. Rose figured she'd use it until Josephine was big enough for a crib. That way, she could have her beside her all night. There's no way she wanted to be far away from her daughter, as long as she could help it.

Rose stole one last glance at Josephine. _Her _Josephine.

Despite the way her body was begging for sleep, and all the pain her body had been through in the last twenty-four hours, Rose couldn't sleep. She felt too excited for the future. Her life was changing, and for the second time in her life, it was for the better- it was something that she had control over.

The first time had been back on the Titanic, when she chose Jack. She had chosen the path she wanted to take in life, and changed her life to make it better for her own needs, despite what others in her life thought. And Jack had given her Josephine. The second love of her life.

Rose knew what she needed, and it was laying right beside her.

All that Rose saw for her future was hope. And she was ready. For the first time in a long time, she felt ready to step into her new life.

**(A/N: I hope y'all are staying safe. The next chapter will be the story's conclusion. :))**


	10. Ten Pt 1

**(A/N: This was intended to be the final chapter, but it was longer than I initially thought it'd be. So, I decided to break it up into two parts! I hope that everyone is staying safe during these uncertain times.)**

_July 27, 1915 _(Present time)

Rose was waiting at the train station anxiously. She was hand in hand with a now two year old Josephine, who was unsure of what was really going on. Rose didn't know how she could possibly explain the situation in a way that would make sense to the small girl. None of it made sense to her either, really.

The little girl had turned out to be the perfect mix of both her parents. Her blonde curls had grown darker in the last two years, now being more of a dirty blonde. And during the summer, dark red spurts appeared throughout the locks. She turned out to have her mother's green eyes. They had darkened as she got older, before finally settling on green. Rose always noticed how bright and full of curiosity they were.

_Rose sat on the couch, brushing through her daughter's wet hair. "Your hair is getting darker, Josie." She marveled at the way the toddler sat still, allowing her to brush and manage her curls after a bath. She felt over the moon about how perfect her daughter had turned out to be._

_The young mother saw her little girl's personality shining through more and more everyday. She was bubbly, yet so full of curiosity. She was perky and smart for her age. Rose could tell that when she was told something, she understood it and took it to heart, even when she didn't know how to communicate it._

_Josephine turned around, her green eyes meeting the matching ones of her mother. "Brush?" she turned her head slightly, asking permission to use it. Her eyes were glossy, gleaming with confidence. Rose hoped she'd never lose that._

As the minutes ticked by, Rose could hardly keep her lunch down. She didn't know how she could wait another minute more. Glancing over to the clock, she noted the time. "_The train should be arriving any minute." _

Josephine looked up at her mother. She bobbed up and down, curls dancing with anticipation. The child may not have understood what was happening, but she could sense her mother's feelings. She wasn't sure whether to feel anxious or excited.

The only that Josephine _was _sure of was that her feet hurt. Rose looked down, sensing that her daughter had been watching her. She smiled at her, before leaning down to pick up the small girl. Rose kissed into her loose curls, and Josephine closed her eyes, leaning on her mother for support.

Rose could hardly believe what was happening. Everything still felt like a dream. Part of her thought this was just another one of her nightmares that had plagued her long ago. She was sure that any minute she'd wake up in a cold sweat, back home in her bed.

It had been nearly a month since Rose had received the letter in the mail. She almost threw it out by accident. What a mistake that would've been.

...

_June 30, 1915_

The day had been like any normal Wednesday. Rose went to work at the theatre, cleaning and tidying up backstage. The show she had written had failed to gain any traction outside of a few productions in her city. This was alright by Rose, considering it had gotten more attention than she thought it'd get.

The owner of the theatre liked her ambition and drive though. He offered her a backstage job on the condition that she kept writing. He thought she had more potential than anyone else saw in her.

This came at a cost for Rose. She ended up having to quit her job at the diner. Leaving that job was bittersweet for her. On one hand, that was the first job she had ever gotten in her whole life. It helped shape her into Rose Dawson, and she would forever be grateful of the small work family she had accumulated. But on the other hand, she needed a new change. She didn't want to feel held back by that job.

Josephine tagged along to the theatre on most days, as help wasn't always readily available. Usually on Mondays and Thursdays, Frances would watch over Josephine during the day.

The Calvert family had been prospering in the last few years. Frances was now a nurse, working next to her husband at the hospital. The couple was expecting their first child together, and Mabel was beyond excited to add a new addition to their family. Rose couldn't be happier for her closest friends. The jealousy she had felt towards the couple years prior had subsided.

Once she got home, Rose threw her mail onto the table. Her apartment had grown to feel more like home over the past two years. Raising a child in the house made it feel more home-like. The little messes she left on the floor, the way she tried to help organize (though it never ended up looking the way the toddler thought it did). It all made the house feel more lived in. Rose liked that. She never experienced the clutter and mess of life with a toddler in the house. This didn't mean the house was disorganized, just not as tidy as it would be if she were living there alone.

Josephine immediately ran off, finding a place on the couch. She grabbed her rag doll that Frances had made for her. Rose wasn't able to provide many toys for her child, so she was grateful for meaningful gifts- such as the one from her longest friend. Josephine never felt the lack of material items in her life. She appreciated everything she had, even being as young as she was.

Quickly sorting through her mail, Rose decided what she should throw out, and what was important to keep. Walking into the kitchen, she threw the handful of junk mail into the garbage. She decided to put together sandwiches for dinner. It was simple, and Josephine was picky about certain foods.

As she was throwing away vegetable scraps, something caught the young woman's eye. An envelope addressed to her. The sender of the letter was only written as "J. Dawson". Rose felt her body go cold, almost as if she might faint. She reached for the letter with a sudden sense of urgency, as though it would disappear if she wasn't able to reach it fast enough. Taking a closer look at the handwriting, she noticed how neat it was. Each letter flowed nicely, looking like perhaps an artist had written it.

The rest of the night felt like one big blur. After dinner, Rose went through her and Josephine's normal night routine. Once the small girl was finally in bed, Rose sat down at her newly acquired desk. Her heart was racing as she reached to open the letter.

Was she fooling to think that this could really be a letter from Jack? Her Jack. The one that she had lost more than two years ago. The father of her child. The man her heart ached for every single night. There's no way he could be alive, yet this letter arrives at her house, seemingly from him.

Not being able to contain herself any longer, Rose opened the letter. She was desperate to unlock the secrets hidden within it.

"_Rose,_

_I can hardly keep my hand still writing this. I've tried to write this letter a few times, though the words I want to say always escape me. The news that you were alive came to me through a play you wrote. I saw a headline in the paper a few months back during a trip to New York. Right beside the article was a picture of you. Your face hasn't changed much since I last saw you._

_I searched through every record I could to try and find you after the sinking. There was no Rose DeWitt Bukater. I even found myself looking for a Rose Hockley, hoping that by any chance you were alive, even if it meant you were married to him. Then I saw the article in the paper. I'm sure you've seen it too? You were dead, and I didn't know where else to turn to._

_My travels have brought me across the country once again. I tried going back home, but there was nothing there waiting for me. As of now, I'm residing in California. I'd love to get together with you. Perhaps we can go over lost time. I'm not saying we need to pick up where we left off. A lot has happened in the three years we've been apart. I'm sure of that._

_I hope you'll forgive me for taking so long to reach out to you. I had to be sure it was you. It took me so long to convince myself that you could have survived despite all the circumstances of that night. But then again, here I am, writing this to you. _

_I hope time has treated you well. Make it count._

_Jack Dawson"_

Rose shut her eyes tight. This had to be some sort of trick. There's no way Jack could be alive. "Wake up. Please." she whispered to herself. Only she didn't. It wasn't a dream. She read the letter over and over again, the words bringing more meaning each time. Tears were flooding down her cheeks, but she didn't care to wipe them. She wasn't sure if they were tears of happiness or sadness. But what she did know was that her life was about to change.

Eagerly, she grabbed a pen and paper of her own and began writing. Jack Dawson was alive.

…

_July 27, 1915 _(Present time)

Unbenounced to Rose, Jack was feeling exactly the same as she was. It felt as if the train couldn't move any slower. Part of him wanted it to go slower. The moment he stepped off that train, his life would change forever. Thinking about seeing Rose for the first time in three years, and meeting their child was as nerve racking as it could get. His heart hadn't stopped racing all morning.

He never imagined that he and Rose had a child together. This whole time, he thought that he only lost the love of his life. Never once did he expect to hear he had lost his child too. Jack wondered what she looked like, what her personality was like. It was an interesting spectacle. This whole time, another version of himself and Rose had been breathing the same air he was, he just didn't know it. The guilt had been eating him alive from the moment he found out.

Many questions of doubt loomed over the young man's mind as the train continued to bring him closer to his lost love. What if his daughter didn't warm up to him the way he hoped? What if Rose had moved on? What if she already had a new life? Three years had passed since they'd seen each other. He knew that change was inevitable.

Jack hadn't moved on. The last two years had been filled with confusion for him. After the loss of Rose, he wasn't sure what to do. He had never known before, but this felt different. Traveling wouldn't feel the same. Everywhere he went he was reminded of not only Rose, but of his greatest friend, Frabrizio. Initially after the disaster, Jack had wanted to look for his friend. He held back for almost three years. He knew there wasn't much hope of him having survived.

There wasn't much time that Jack had spent in New York. He stayed there until about mid-May. He would have left sooner, but he was incapacitated before then. His body went through a lot that cold April night. He wasn't as healthy as he used to be, and he never would be again. But he was alive, though Jack wasn't sure if it was worth it if he spent eternity alone.

Once he was back on his feet, he made his way back to Chippewa Falls. It had been nearly six years since the fifteen year old Jack had run away from his old home and old life. The town hadn't changed much since he left. He thought that maybe going back home would fill the void in his heart. It didn't. If anything, it only cut the wound deeper. It wasn't long before Jack made his trip across the rest of the country, eventually ending up in California.

That was towards the end of 1913. He made his way back to New York only a few months prior, when he searched through old survivor records for Frabrizio. He didn't find what he was looking for, but he did stumble through an article in the local paper. Rose Dawson was an up and coming playwrite in her small city. He felt as though somehow, he had been led back there by his lost friend, as one last adventure together.

Once he got back to California, Jack needed time to reflect. He could hardly believe she was alive. And by the looks of it, she wasn't too bad off. He kept the newspaper he had acquired back in New York. He found himself writing a letter to her. Would he even get a response? Deep down he knew he would, but his doubts always crept up on him.

It had been about a week and a half since he had sent out his letter when he received one back. His hands shook when he retrieved his mail. He had been expecting something back, but when it really happened he felt shocked.

…

_July 4, 1915_

Jack let out a deep breath, sitting outside on the doorstep of the art studio he worked at. Over the past three years, Jack had had a few different jobs. None of them suited his hobbies as well as his one at the studio. He felt grateful for the opportunities he had out in California, yet something still felt missing.

Suddenly sweating, Jack took a closer look at the envelope. The first thing he noticed was Rose's handwriting. It was a neat cursive. Jack felt that it matched her personality somehow. Taking a deep breath, he unfolded the neatly tucked in piece of paper with his now numb feeling hands.

"_Jack,_

_I must say receiving your letter was quite the shock. All these years I've been grieving over you, not knowing you were still alive. I feel quite foolish now. You mentioned that you looked for me on survivor records, yet I didn't do the same for you. In my mind, I knew you were dead. I had seen you die and there was no point in searching. Perhaps I should have looked._

_I understand your reasons for not contacting me right away. I probably would have done the same. I could hardly understand the idea of you being alive myself when you wrote to me._

_You mentioned in your letter how things have undoubtedly changed these last three years. You were right. I myself have gone through a numerous amount of changes, just as I'm sure you have. I'd much rather tell you this in person, but you deserve to know beforehand if you want to get together._

_On January 9, 1913, I brought a beautiful baby girl into the world. Our daughter. I named her Josephine Dawson. She looks so much like you. She's nearly two and a half years old, and I'm sure she'd love to see you just as much as I would._

_If you still wish to see me, we can set up a formal arrangement in our following letters. If you feel the same, I'd like to get together as soon as possible. We have so much lost time between us. Getting to know each other once again would be marvelous._

_Best regards,_

_Rose Dawson"_

Jack finished the letter, feeling dizzy. He had a daughter? An immensence wave of guilt suddenly crashed into him. This feeling was followed by a plethora of others: happiness, sadness, even excitement. He wasn't sure what to make of the small interaction he and Rose shared. All he knew was that he wanted to take her up on her offer.

He read over the last two words over and over again. Rose Dawson. _Dawson. _His heart fluttered at the sound of it. Jack knew the two most probable reasons why she would take his last name. The biggest one was probably to escape from her mother and the awful Cal Hockley once and for all. But the other reason was because she wanted a new identity- a fresh start. Jack knew the impact he had made on her must have been deep. That was something they still had in common.

Standing up, he brushed the dirt off his pants. "As soon as possible." he whispered to himself, retreating back to the studio to begin his second letter to Rose.

...

_July 27, 1915 _(Present time)

As the train pulled into the station, Rose's palms began to sweat. Along with it came shakey limbs. Either Josephine sensed her mother's mood or she had just become antsy, but she wiggled in Rose's arms, causing her to set her child down. The small toddler sat on the floor, playing with the sticks and pebbles that laid beneath her feet.

Rose glanced down at her child, smiling. She had always allowed her daughter to play with the elements of nature. It was something that she had never been allowed to do as a child. It only felt natural to her. Before there were toys, how else would children entertain themselves? Josephine didn't mind anyway. Her imagination was big, and anything that she could get her hands on gave her joy.

Over Josephine's short life span, Rose told her stories of her lost father. She told her daughter of his features, his personality, how she saw so much of him in her. Not that the mother expected her to understand much of it. But it only felt right to tell Josephine these stories. Rose resented her father growing up. He was alive, yet she knew so little about him. If her daughter was going to suffer the same fate, she at least wanted her to know all the stories about him.

Only now, he would be in her life. At least that's what Rose was hoping. Was it wishful thinking to believe that Jack would want to be in his daughter's life? In his other letters he seemed excited to meet his child. What if things changed once he spent some time with them?

Rose shook the thoughts out of her mind. Thinking like that would do no good. Of course Jack wanted to be in Josephine's life. After all, _he _had been the one to set up this meeting date.

The passengers began unloading from the train carts, and Rose clutched onto the fabric of her skirt so tight that her fingers began to ache. Her heart was beating so fast that she could feel the thumping in her ears, and she was sure that those around her could hear it as well.

She glanced down at her daughter, surprised to see that Josephine was staring right back up at her. She had a curious look in her eye, not quite understanding what was going on. Her mother had been acting strange all morning. Even in her small mind, Josephine knew something unusual was going on. Their normal schedule had been messy all day. All that the small girl knew was that she was at some unfamiliar location. She stood up and leaned into her mother's grey colored skirt, suddenly feeling nervous about all the new faces around her.

Rose placed a comforting hand on her daughter's head, lightly rubbing her fingers through her blonde-ish curls. She was desperately trying to search through the crowd. What if he had decided not to come after all? Looking through the numerous amounts of faces, Rose couldn't seem to find Jack. He couldn't have changed that much in the last three years.

Jack was the one to spot Rose first. In hand he had a small trunk, containing a few items of clothing and his drawing materials, as well as some money. He figured he wouldn't need much else on his stay in New York.

He waved in hand up in an effort to help Rose see him too. It worked, and the pair made eye contact. Rose felt that her heart had stopped. Her breathing hitched as he approached her. Everything felt so unreal. Soon, she'd be waking up at home after this dream, Josephine next to her in the bed they often shared.

There's no way that this could be real, could it? She had seen Jack die. His lifeless body fell to the ocean floor. Rose was _so _sure she had seen it happen. But then, there he was, moving towards her at a pace that seemed to be in slow motion.

Jack hadn't changed much since she last saw him. His blonde hair was nearly in the same style as the last time she'd seen it, just slightly longer. His skin had a light tan to it, most likely from being out in the sun. Physically, he looked stronger and better built than before. Rose briefly wondered what kind of work he had done over the last few years.

Once he reached the pair, Jack dropped his trunk to the floor, not bothered by how uncarefully he set it down. Curiously, Josephine walked over to it. She could hardly care about this strange man that was here. Now she had something new to play with! Walking over to it, she sat on top and fiddled with the handle.

There were no words spoken between Jack and Rose. The pair made eye contact, but neither dared to move. It was like they were frozen in time, marveling at one another. The moment her eyes met his, Rose felt her heart melt as it once had three years ago. His deep blue eyes still carried the same warmth and compassion that they had all that time ago. Looking into them, Rose felt a sense of security.

Finally, Jack gently placed his hands on her arms, almost not believing she was real. His lips curved into a smile and he pulled her into a tight embrace. Rose hugged him back instantly, her frozen body suddenly coming back to life. She squeezed him, nearly melting in his warm grasp. A few tears escaped before she even realized they were nearing.

They held on for a moment that seemed so brief but as long as a lifetime. Neither one let go of the other as they held each other's gaze once again. They both saw the same image inside them: the past that was filled with love and courage, and the future that was yet to be written.

"You have no idea how long I've longed to do that." Rose said so quietly that she wasn't sure if Jack even heard it. The warm tears continued to spread down her pale cheeks.

"God, I've missed you." He replied, wiping her tears. "I'm so sorry. I should've been the-" Jack started to say, but Rose stopped him.

"Don't be sorry. There's nothing you could've done to change this." There was nothing to be sorry for. So much had happened after the sinking. All that mattered was that they had found each other again.

Jack rubbed his finger across her cheek, not saying anything. He thought differently on the matter, but he couldn't let her know that. Not now. The moment was too perfect to ruin. Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, he spoke instead. "I can't believe I found you." Jack said softly, rubbing her arm.

A noise below the pair stopped Rose's response and instead directed her attention downwards. Josephine's fiddling with the trunk had caused it to open. Quickly apologizing to Jack, she leaned down to close it back up. Afterwards, she picked up the mischievous toddler.

"This is Josephine." Rose said, beaming with pride. Her child was her biggest accomplishment in life. She was always so delighted to introduce her daughter to new people. Only, this wasn't just anyone. From the moment the small girl had been born, Rose wanted nothing more than for her to meet her father. And now that the moment was here, the young mother couldn't be filled with any more joy.

Jack stood still, his facial expression hard to read. Looking back at him was a person that resembled him so much. He could hardly believe it. He himself wasn't really sure what emotion to feel. The first was pure bliss, not being able to fathom that this freckle faced toddler was his. But then that brought the second emotion: guilt. How had he let these two and a half years without her pass him by? Losing Rose was one thing, but he had lost the two most important girls to him that April night, even if he hadn't known it then.

Reaching out to the toddler, he rubbed his hand across her hair. Her curls felt so similar to her mother's. The only difference was that her's seemed to be looser- and of course blonde. She had her mother's eyes as well, and he could tell she was thinking something. Jack wished he could know what was going on inside her little mind.

"Hello, Josephine. My name's Jack." He didn't know if she'd understand his words. He didn't know anything about small children, really. There had only been a few he'd been around in his twenty-two years.

Rose smiled saying, "This is your father, Josie. The one I've told you so much about." Truth be told, she was speaking more to Jack. She wanted him to know that even if he hadn't been there, he still impacted their lives everyday.

Josephine just pointed at him. "Fa-ter?" her small voice questioned, unable to clearly pronounce the word. Even if she didn't know what the word meant, it was one that she was familiar with. Short memories of her mother mentioning the word went through her mind.

All Josephine did was stare at the man in front of her. She didn't have a clue what father meant, but taking a glance at her mother, she saw how happy she looked. That must be a sign that she liked this person. Quickly, she waved at him, before hiding her face in her mother's sleeve. She didn't know why she felt so shy all of a sudden.

Jack smiled, placing a hand on her back. "Hey, I'll take it." He laughed, "We'll work on it." Picking up his trunk from the floor, he touched Rose's shoulder.

"Shall we?" Rose suggested, finally realizing that they were still at the train station. By now, the majority of the people had cleared out. The foreign feeling of safety had returned to her life. When she was with Jack, she felt like they were the only one's in the whole world, and that she'd be safe as long as he was there.

"After you." Jack gestured forward, and Rose led the way.


	11. Ten Pt 2

_August 10, 1915_

The two weeks since Jack had first arrived in New York had felt like something straight out of a dream. The small family had spent much of their time traveling around the city, with Rose eager to show Jack around the town she had grown to love.

They had visited the old diner, and Rose told stories of her early days of working there and how it had been her first job. While there, she talked with her old boss, Clyde. She told him that the man she had brought with him was Josephine's father. The mysterious man that no one had known before was standing there, right in front of him. It was something that Clyde had never expected.

One thing that he noticed was the happiness that radiated off of his former employee when she talked about this man he had never seen or heard of prior. She tried to hide it, but Clyde saw the small glances she would try to sneak in at him. In the early days of Rose working at the diner, he noticed how her mood was always the polar opposite of what it seemed to be right now. Silently, he wondered what the pair had been through together, and why this man had taken so long to show up.

"You take good care of Rosie there, ya hear?" Clyde joked to Jack as the trio was making their way out.

"I will." Jack said to himself, not wanting Rose to hear it. She did.

Another time, they had gone to see the Calvert's. Quite a few times, actually. Frances was very excited to meet the man she had been told so much about. Rose again told stories: how William had helped deliver their baby, about how Frances had been her first friend in New York and the only one who knew of Jack prior to his unexpected arrival.

Jack admired the strength and courage Frances carried around with her. It seemed to cast off in all directions when she walked into a room, and her friendliness was almost contagious. He could see why Rose had befriended her. They were very similar.

Another person that no one expected had taken a liking to Jack: Mabel. It turned out that she had quite the eye for drawing, and she loved to hear stories of what he did for a job and where he had been in the past. One night when the Calvert's had come over for dinner, Mabel sat down the rest of the evening drawing with him, while Josephine tried her best to join in. The best she could do was draw a few scribbles.

Jack had grown to like the people that Rose surrounded herself with. They meshed together in a way that made sense. Like they were all pieces of a puzzle that life had seemed to make fit. During his time in New York, he tried to find out if he could fit in that puzzle too.

Jack was almost jealous of the life that Rose was able to build for herself. He thought back to his struggles after the sinking. He was off his feet for weeks, and for months his body struggled to be active. It felt like nearly every other week he was getting sick, and the thoughts of Rose and what had happened were always finding a way to plague his everyday life.

He wanted to know what she had gone through. He wasn't naive. There was no doubt in his mind that Rose had suffered in many of the same ways that he had. Anyone in their situation would have. But yet, she had gone on to follow the dreams she had told him about years ago and make friends in an unfamiliar city, all while raising their daughter. How had she persevered in ways that he could not?

By now, the three were back at Rose's apartment, settling down for the night. There were two more days until Jack had to head back out to California. The deal he had set with his boss was that he could take three weeks off. As he took the train, he set about a week aside for travel. It wasn't likely that he'd need the full time, but he didn't want to take the risk.

Jack was an essential part of his workforce. Although he knew the studio wasn't the same without him, he was sure if he needed extra time then it could be granted. Maybe he'd need to use that extra time. A lot had been running through his mind lately.

Sitting on the couch he slept on every night, Jack's eyes gravitated towards the three small photos that were framed on the small side table that sat beside the couch. He looked at them often during the evening's when he couldn't sleep.

One of the photos looked to be the day that Josephine was born. Rose was holding their daughter, the biggest and most accomplished smile on her face. Frances stood beside her, arms wrapped around Rose's shoulders. Looking at the photo made him crave these types of memories of his own. Jack never thought that he could've possibly missed this much in three years.

The photo in the middle was taken at the Calvert's wedding about a year ago, a fact he'd learned one night when the couple was over. The newlyweds were holding hands, with Rose standing beside William. Frances had a long, intricately designed dress and a bouquet in hand, and William stood up tall, proud of his new family. Mabel and Josephine stood in front with matching dresses, arms sloppily wrapped around each other. Of course there was no actual color in the photo, but Jack swore that he could see Rose's fiery red locks burning into the image.

The final photo was of just Rose and Josephine. They were seated on a blanket in what seemed to be a park, an assortment of food laid out around them. Neither of the pair were looking at the camera, but the image seemed to speak most to Jack. Rose looked to be talking to their daughter, her hand placed gently on her back. Josephine was looking into her eyes, her curls neatly pinned back and checkered dress smoothed out perfectly. It was the most genuine photo of the three; a real moment captured in time.

Thinking of his daughter, Jack felt a sense of pride. Josephine had warmed up considerably to her father in the last few weeks. They had spent a lot of time together, and he couldn't believe how intelligent and playful she was. He could tell that she did feel some sort of love for him, and that it was growing everyday. Which made Jack feel even worse knowing that their days together were limited. How could he leave again?

Standing up, Jack began to make his way down the hall, eventually ending up in front of the room that Rose and his daughter shared. Not feeling entirely sure of himself, he raised his hand up. After a brief moment of thought, he placed a gentle knock on the door. He tried to be as quiet as possible, as Josephine had been put down not too long before.

A few moments later, the door opened slowly, and Rose slipped out.

"Is something wrong, Jack?" she said in a hushed voice.

"No," he trailed off for a moment. "Can we talk?"

Only nodding in response, Rose began walking down the hallway, with Jack close behind her heels. The pair made their way to the couch where he had been just minutes before. Rose sat down on the soft cushion, while Jack leaned against the arm of the couch, arms crossed.

Though he wasn't making eye contact with her, Jack could feel Rose's eyes. She was watching, waiting for the moment he'd begin to speak. He knew what he _wanted _to say, only the words weren't sounding right in his head. Jack had always been a man that was able to say what he meant, when he meant it. Why were his words suddenly escaping him?

"Rose," Jack started, starting to find his words. "I think I'm gonna move out here to New York, get my own place." He looked over to the girl slowly, unsure of what her reaction would be.

What Jack didn't know was that this was something Rose was hoping for. She retained from bringing it up because she never wanted to suggest him to do something he may not want to. She tried to contain herself as she spoke. "I'm glad to hear that. Josephine absolutely adores you." She thought for another moment, "What about your job? The studio?"

Jack had an answer quickly "There'll be other jobs. Art is everywhere. But there's never gonna be another you, another Josephine."

Rose felt her heart flutter. "_There'll never be another you." _Was he suggesting something? Or was she thinking too deeply into his words, hearing only what she wanted to? Over the time that Jack had been in town, they had had short conversations about where their relationship stood now. They both agreed that they needed to get to know each other once again, and not jump into anything too quickly.

So, they had remained as just friends this whole time. This was hard for Rose, as from the moment that she saw her former lover again, she knew the love she felt for him was still there. After all, she spent much of her time thinking of him. How would her heart have been able to heal if she was constantly thinking about him?

Although she didn't know it, Jack felt the same way as Rose. Neither of them wanted to confess anything to the other, so that topic had been swept under the rug the last two weeks.

"How about we move out to California with you? I couldn't possibly tear you away from your job." The words slipped out of Rose's mouth before she really comprehended what she was saying.

Jack only looked at her, before sitting down right in front of her on the couch. "Rose, you've created a life for yourself out here. You're going places. I've got nothing but a half finished studio waiting for me back in California. I'm sure ol' Rich will understand. Family is more important." He placed his hand on Rose's cheek. She was so thoughtful. Her heart hadn't changed at all these last three years.

Rose wanted to say something back. About how they could make it work in California, how she could write plays out there instead and he could continue to work with Rich at the studio. But she held back, knowing that he was right. The opportunity she had at the theatre wasn't one that was easy to come by. Instead, she just nodded, grabbing his hand that rested on her cheek.

"And besides," he said softly, "I can't leave you again."

Rose pursed her lips together, looking into his soft blue eyes, as if they would provide all the answers for her. His words reminded her of the grief towards him that she used to carry around. They had had a few short discussions about what each other had gone through in the last few years. Rose tried not to go into too much detail about her grief, and neither did Jack. she hadn't even told him about the folder she kept with everything she remembered about him.

"I felt so lost without you. Josephine saved me. I can't even imagine what you must've gone through." Rose said, a puzzled look on her face. She didn't even want to imagine life without her daughter. She couldn't. There were many days filled with grief and sadness, but Rose got up and put a smile on her face everyday for her daughter. What must it have been like for him?

Slowly. So slowly, she found herself inching closer to him, not sure if he was comfortable with her being so near. He just pulled her in closer.

Jack's hands found their way to Rose's. She nearly shuddered at their touch. Immediately, she was reminded of how much she missed their warmth and roughness they held from all his years of work.

"I managed. It hurt, but I just knew I had to keep going. I figured there must've been a reason why I survived." Jack felt a smile forming on his face, "Now I know what it was. I had to get back to you. To Josephine." he finished, feeling warm from Rose being so close to him.

Rose didn't say anything back. For whatever reason, she felt like that girl that she was all those years ago, after the sinking. She felt so vulnerable and scared. Only this time, she had comfort. She didn't have to be alone anymore.

Looking up at Jack, she smiled, "You'll never have to feel hurt again." She said, wanting him to know the same thoughts she was thinking. "And there'll be no need to get your own apartment. I want you to stay right here. With Josie and me."

Before he could even reply, Rose seemed to have read his mind. She told him not to be silly, and that it really would be no trouble at all. She said that he could get a job out in New York, and that maybe one day they could combine their money to get a bigger place. At least, if that's what he wanted.

Jack gazed into her green eyes. They sparkled with the same beauty they had when they met her, full of life and dedication. He was amazed at how easily they read each other. Nothing had changed in the years that they had been apart.

Now, it seemed as though they were getting closer to each other. Was he only imagining it? How badly he just wanted to hold her tight. His eyes drifting down to look at her soft pink lips, before quickly darting back up to her eyes. Rose chuckled lightly, having seen his actions.

"Well, Mr. Dawson," Rose said with fake snobbiness. "It seems as though we're thinking the same thing once again."

"I don't think I've ever stopped thinking about it." Jack replied. Now they were definitely getting closer.

Rose's hands left his, and found their way to the back of his neck. They rested there, and the pair just continued to look at one another, not being able to detach their gaze.

Seemingly at the same time, they both grew closer and closer, before they were just inches apart. Jack placed his hands on her hips as he closed the gap between them, their lips meeting for the first time in over three years. Immediately, flustered, nervous and content all at once, they felt the same love that had first brought them together all that time ago. It was then that Jack knew that where he was now _was _his home, and he wouldn't dream of leaving ever again.

They moved out of the kiss, still holding onto one another. Rose moved one of her hands to his cheek, feeling herself blush at the sight of him. After she composed herself again, she found her voice. "I guess this changes things."

"Are you okay with that?" Jack asked, looking into her eyes. He didn't want to do anything she wasn't comfortable with, even if it meant he would get hurt.

Rose thought about the girl she had been on the Carpathia. She had been scared, alone, so unsure of life. She had to make decisions that she never thought she would find herself making. Grief was something that she would never wish on those she liked the least. Ironically, the people she disliked most in her life had gone through grief as well- over her. But only for her, it all worked out in the end. Every moment of hardship had been worth it, for it had brought her back to her lost love.

"Of course." she answered finally. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

Jack smiled at her, feeling more joyful than he had in years. He could hardly believe that the man who had won tickets with his best friend to travel on the biggest liner in the world, and the man who suffered through pain and grief for the past three years were the same person. Finding Rose and Josephine was like finding buried treasure. It was something that had been lost a long time ago, and despite all the odds stacked against the recipient, the treasure in all its beauty was found once again.

Knowing that he'd be able to raise Josephine with Rose by his side made Jack's heart skip a beat. After all this time, Jack Dawson knew what he wanted to do with his life. For years he had been so unsure of every action he had taken, not knowing where it'd lead him. "_You never know what hand you're gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you." _He thought of his own words in that moment. This would be the last time he would need to take life one moment at a time, for now he knew that his life would be complete no matter where he went or what he did.

"I can't wait to get on that train back to California. I'll make my way back here as soon as I can." Jack said, thinking about going home. He didn't have much to pack, so he could probably be back in New York by next week.

He did feel bad leaving Rich, his boss. Though he knew that he would understand. Rich knew of his employees troubles, and was supportive of him going to meet his family. Part of him knew the decision that Jack would make the moment he stepped off that train.

Rose leaned into Jack, wanting to feel his warmth. She had never felt more safe and content in her life than she felt in that moment. She reached her hand up, rubbing it through Jack's hair, missing the silky smooth texture it provided. He played with her hair as well, as they just looked into each other's eyes. After all this time, they had been brought back together. And this time, Rose would never let him leave again.

"We'll make it count, Jack." She smiled, her hand finding its way to his. "Together."

**(A/N: This concludes the story! I just want to take a moment to say that I really appreciate every sweet review left by those following my story. Fixing up this old thing was harder than I thought, but reading the feedback I was getting kept me going, as I knew people were really reading and enjoying. :))**


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